Lisa: It's a Nice Day to Start Again
by norfintroll
Summary: Present-day Lisa Braeden knows there's something or someone she can't remember-something that's been bothering her since that car accident a few years ago. But can she break through the wall in her mind to find a name? Rights to Supernatural and its characters belong to Kripke. This is my first fanfic and I really appreciate any constructive criticism and feedback.
1. Chapter 1

Lisa: _It's a Nice Day to Start Again_

"Mom, I'm going to sleep over at Jimmy's house tonight, ok?"

Lisa turned off the water in the kitchen sink and turned to face her son. "Ok. Be careful," she said automatically. "I can drive you there if you want." She half-smiled when Ben gave her a humorous eye-roll.

"_Mom._ I'm almost fifteen. I'm practically an adult. I can walk myself five blocks."

"I know. Sorry." Lisa wiped her wet hands on a dishtowel and ruffled her son's dark hair. He was her height now, with a wiry build and a blue shadow hovering around his chin. It was just yesterday he'd been a little boy…letting her hug him and kiss his forehead at night. None of that nonsense for the teenager in front of her. "I'll see you tomorrow after school," she called at his retreating back.

The front door closed behind her son, and Lisa leaned against the edge of the counter, staring out the window at the brilliantly red maple in the back yard. Autumn always tugged at her heart, made her nostalgic for something she couldn't quite remember, something that fluttered on the edges of her mind like a moth trapped under glass.

She had had that feeling for years: that fluttering, twitching, almost itching sensation in her brain, as if she had forgotten something, something important, something from long ago. Come to think of it, she realized, it had started right after the car accident. That had been—what? Four years ago?

She didn't like to think about the car accident, but when her mind drifted that way, all she could remember was a haze of faces, Ben sitting by her side in the hospital. Apparently the guy that hit them had come and apologized while she was there, but the doctors must have given her some good drugs, because she couldn't even remember that.

She'd asked the doctors in later visits about her memory loss, the little gaps, the persistent questions about the things she felt were there but that she couldn't see. They all said the same thing: "It's common after an accident. Nothing to worry about, as long as it doesn't interfere with your daily life."

But she felt, in some weird way, that it _did_ interfere with her daily life. Nothing she could put her finger on, but she had changed since that car accident. Old friends had drifted away, even family—it had been two months since she'd called her sister Nikki. Guys—forget about it. She couldn't even make it past a first date anymore.

Dates, in fact, were when she felt this nagging most strongly, as if she wasn't supposed to be there, as if the man across the table from her was nothing but a shadowy figment of imagination. They saw it in her eyes, and dinner always ended awkwardly, with no phone calls later.

"Snap out of it!" Lisa told herself aloud. "Don't be ridiculous. That has nothing to do with the car accident. How could it?"

She didn't feel like cooking dinner now. Ben wasn't home; she could make do with some mac 'n cheese later, and do extra yoga poses to make up for it in the morning. She smiled to herself as she left the kitchen. Yoga—teaching again—at least that gave her satisfaction. That and being a mother to her son.

The thought of Nikki still made her feel guilty. What kind of a sister was she, anyway? She picked up her cell in the hall and dialed.

Nikki answered on the third ring. "Lisa?"

"Hey. How's everything?"

"Fine. You? Is there anything wrong?"

"No, of course not. I just wanted to see how you and Hailey were doing."

"We're fine. Hailey's fine." There was a pause, and Lisa heard her sister setting plates on the table. "She's taking ballet now. How's Ben?"

"He's fine." Lisa paused, cracking open the front door to let the warm evening sunshine fall onto the carpet. "Nikki, I wanted to ask you something."

"What is it?"

"You remember that car accident I had, the one right before I moved to St. Louis?"

"Of course." An odd, rough edge made Nikki's voice husky for a second before she recovered herself.

"Did I change after that?"

"What do you mean, did you change?"

"You know what I mean. Am I different now than I used to be? You're my sister—you can tell me the truth."

"Well." Dishes rattled even more loudly on Nikki's end of the phone. "I guess so, yes."

"How?"

"Well, you moved away, for one. I never understood that. I still don't. And you just seemed _off_. I don't know how to explain it, and the doctor told me when I got there that you might have had a little bit of brain damage, amnesia or something. It just never went away, that's all."

"I'm sorry," Lisa said. It seemed the right thing to say.

"It's not your fault. I still love you." At least now Nikki's voice held a hint of a smile. "Hailey looks forward to your Christmas package every year. She'd love to see you. Why don't you come down and visit? Surely you can take some time off from the yoga studio."

"Yeah, they're pretty flexible. Maybe I'll do that. Was there anything else, Nikki? Anything else about the accident? I really can't remember much, and somehow it seems important."

"No, no I don't know, really."

"What about the guy who hit me? Did you meet him, when you got to the hospital?"

"No, no." Nikki laughed. "He was long gone."

"Do you remember his name?"

"Honestly, no, I don't think I ever knew it. Does it matter? Are you trying to find him? I mean, really, what would be the point?"

"I guess you're right." Lisa laughed reluctantly. "Bye, sis. Tell Hailey hello for me."

Setting the phone back on the entry table, she cracked the door open wider and sat down cross-legged in the sunshine, blinking like a cat. The itching, nagging feeling had never been this intense before. Something about that guy was important.

If she could remember his name, bring it out of the depths of her memory, maybe she could remember the rest. But she knew it wasn't something she could just dig out of her brain by force.

All her years of yoga and meditation had taught her a few things. She went into lotus position on the carpet in the sunshine, letting the brilliant light warm her closed eyelids and seep into her mind. She had gone deep with meditation before, but this time was different. She breathed steadily, deeply, knowing that this would take a while.

The sunlight moved down and down and down while she sat there, until it was dark. She felt fear, then. Fear and resistance and anger, all warning her to turn back.

"No," she said, without opening her eyes. It was important. The closer she got, the more she could feel the importance of this thing she did not know. She would not turn back, although chills ran down her spine and the darkness slid its fingers into her mind.

The name. That was all she wanted—the rest would come later. All she wanted was the name. She breathed, letting her mind open itself to knowledge.

_Dean_.

She was sure of the name that worked itself free from some wall deep below her consciousness and floated up to her in the midnight darkness. Dean. And the very briefest flash of someone in faded jeans and a field jacket, a flash that made her heart turn over though she didn't know why.

Lisa stood up stiffly, feeling pins and needles race down her legs and goosebumps form on her arms. Something deep within her, some wall of memory, had cracked. She had remembered a name.

Soon she could remember the rest.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2: Memory Highway

Lisa knew there was no use trying to sleep when she got up from her seat on the floor. When she stumbled into the kitchen, it was two o'clock in the morning, and she opened the fridge, blinking in its light as she searched for an open bottle of wine she vaguely remembered leaving in there last week.

She didn't care that the wine was flat and sour and should have been poured down the drain five days ago. She drank straight from the bottle, head tipped back, and set it down on the counter with a harsh clink of glass on granite.

"I can't get drunk," she told herself. "I have classes to teach in the morning."

The silence around her made her shiver. She stepped outside on the back deck, wrapping her arms around herself as the chilly air struck her skin.

_Dean._ Dean who? Dean what? She still couldn't quite make out the man's face in her mind, but that flash of memory, that sense of him, was still there. She still didn't know what she was looking for, but she had gotten far enough to remember a name, and that gave her confidence.

Just before dawn, she slipped on her running shoes and headed out the front door, locking it behind her. The sidewalks were empty and white, glowing in the dim bulbs of the streetlamps. Lisa walked a block or so before she began to run. Her own breathing and the punching of her shoes against the concrete were the only sounds she could hear.

She ran past the Donaldsons' house, where her son was sleeping over with his friend, and glanced at it, but no lights shone through the windows. The boys probably wouldn't be awake until fifteen minutes before the bus, she thought with a wry smile.

Turning left at the corner, she ran two more blocks and reached one of the city parks, where a path looped around a tiny lake and plunged into the woods. It was one of Lisa's favorite places to run, and even in the early morning she was not afraid. This was a safe neighborhood, where joggers and bikers and teenage girls with strollers could exercise without fear.

She had hoped that the run would clear her mind, open it to new memories, but nothing came to her, and she returned home to take a quick shower before driving to her 7 a.m. yoga class.

The early class was popular, and Lisa had about thirty students waiting for her when she arrived. Mentally she groaned, her lack of sleep coming back to haunt her, but she was determined not to let it show.

While the students were in downward dog, she left them to it for a second to slip out and grab a cup of coffee in the office.

"Morning, Lisa, how's it going?" Kim, a redheaded instructor about Lisa's age, smiled at her over the coffee pot, but then looked concerned. "What's wrong with you?"

"Nothing." Lisa took a long swallow of coffee and forced a smile. "Trouble sleeping, that's all."

"Have you looked at yourself? Those bags under your eyes are positively _purple_, and you're drinking coffee black."

Lisa shook her head, trying to fight off the waves of exhaustion. "I've got to get back to class."

"Lisa." Kim touched her arm. "I'm not letting this go. I'm your friend, okay?"

"I know." Lisa slipped out of the office and back into the yoga room. "Let's do some sun salutations," she called, and her class obediently went through the motions.

She was glad when the hour was up and she had a break. She sat down on a folding chair and closed her eyes, feeling a headache gear up in the back of her brain.

"Lisa." Kim's voice was quiet, and Lisa didn't even bother to open her eyes. "Talk to me."

"It's nothing."

"I've never seen you like this. There's something wrong."

"You'll think I'm crazy."

"How long have you known me? I'm the one that everybody thinks is crazy."

This was true, actually. Lisa opened her eyes and looked at her redheaded friend. Kim, who was a wonderful yoga teacher, also claimed to be a psychic. She worked with tarot, read palms, and dabbled in hypnosis, insisting that everything she did was real. For the most part, her friends and coworkers just rolled their eyes and left her to it.

"Oh, you'll laugh." Lisa was still protesting, but maybe it wouldn't be such a bad thing to talk about her problem. It couldn't hurt anything, anyway.

"Go on."

"I was in a car accident a few years ago, before I moved here. The doctors said I lost some memory around that time, and I was trying to bring some of it back last night."

"What were you trying to remember?"

"The name of the man who hit me with his car."

"Really?" Kim's eyebrows lifted. "Why?"

"I don't know. It just seems really important." Lisa shrugged. "I know, it's ridiculous."

Kim's eyes were alert and interested. "Well, did you get anything? Did you get the name?"

"Dean. Just that." Lisa shook her head. "And I almost saw him, but it's like playing hide-and-seek in my mind. When I think I've gotten something, it slips away."

"Huh." Kim sat back in her chair for a minute. "And you can't just call the hospital and find out?"

"It's not in the records. It's not anywhere. I would have remembered it, if it had been there. It's…weird. The whole thing's weird."

"Let me help you." Kim leaned forward again, taking both of Lisa's hands.

"What do you mean?"

"Oh, please. There's all kinds of ways to get into the subconscious. You just have to know how." She looked very excited. "Come on, it'll be fun."

"I'm not sure about the fun part," Lisa said slowly, "but okay…I guess."

"Great." Kim glanced at the clock. "We both have work until five. Want to come over to my hypnosis office after that? You know—at the little strip mall downtown."

"Let me go home and fix Ben something to eat first, and then I'll come over." Lisa stood up. Who knew? Maybe this would work, although she was doubtful. "Thanks for listening, Kim."

"That's what friends are for." Kim bounced out the door, red ponytail swinging jauntily.

By 5:15, Lisa was home boiling spaghetti for Ben. He came in the door at 5:30, his usual time, and slung his backpack onto one of the chairs in the breakfast nook. "Hi, Mom."

"Hi, son." She kissed his head and for once he didn't make a face. "How was school?"

"Okay." He sat down, watching her as she heated up a jar of sauce and poured some over the spaghetti noodles.

"Just okay, huh? So what are you doing tonight?"

He shrugged. "Homework."

"Likely story." Lisa grinned in spite of herself. "I'm going out tonight, sweetie. Just girl time with somebody from work. I'll be back by nine. Think you can take care of things until then?"

He looked at her, and she winced. He knew her too well; she had been trying so hard to keep her voice light, but he could tell. "Is something wrong?"

"Of course not." Hastily she dumped the rest of the spaghetti sauce in a Tupperware and stuck it in the fridge. "I just need a night out. Love you, sweetie."

"Bye, Mom." She felt his eyes on her back as she collected her purse and headed out the door.

"Hey, Lisa, I'm glad you're here! I've got everything set up." Kim greeted her at the door to the office and escorted her in.

Lisa looked around. "I've never been in here before," she said. "It's nice."

"You like it? Really?"

"Of course I do." She wasn't lying; the lavender walls and soft lamps soothed the nagging feeling in her brain, and the soft trickle of water in a fountain made her think of rain and little creeks in the woods.

"Well, this is just the waiting room." Kim beckoned her into the back. "This is where the real stuff happens."

It was darker here, and the walls were a deeper shade of purple. Lisa brushed her fingers over a table covered with indigo velvet, suddenly feeling awkward. It was all rather witchy and weird, she thought. But Kim seemed completely comfortable.

"You want to try hypnosis first?" she asked, and didn't wait for an answer. "You can take the lounge chair over there."

Lisa sank into the cushions without a word. The air smelled of incense, heavy and sweet.

She had never been hypnotize before, but the steps seemed familiar and comforting, bringing her into the same deep state that she could find in her yoga poses. She breathed slowly, letting Kim's voice guide her.

"Lisa, now that you're completely relaxed, I want you to envision yourself in the hospital after your accident. What do you see?"

"I'm lying in a hospital bed," Lisa answered slowly. She felt a chill in the air, felt the thin hospital blanket under her fingers, heard beeping in the background, and a p.a. system droning endlessly. "Dr. Hoffman to surgery please…Dr. Smith, please call administration."

"Who is with you?"

"Ben. He's sitting beside my bed."

"You said the man who hit you came to see you in the hospital. Where is he?"

"Uh." Lisa struggled, involuntarily opening her eyes, then closing them again. "He—he never came in the room. He just stood in the door. I know that's what he did, but I can't see him."

"Don't worry about that right now. You said his name was Dean. What was his last name?"

"I don't know. I've been trying to remember."

"It's in there, Lisa. Let it come to you."

Just like last night, the name rose gently out of the depths. "Winchester. Dean Winchester."

"What?" Kim's voice was sharp enough to bring Lisa out of her trance. She opened her eyes to find her friend's face paper-white. "Dean _Winchester_?"

"What's the matter?" Lisa sat up.

"You're sure that's his name?"

"I'm sure. I'm absolutely sure. You need to tell me what's the matter, Kim." Lisa sat up. "You're scaring me."

Kim sat very still for a few seconds, her eyes fixed on something beyond the walls. "Listen to me," she said finally, and brought her gaze down to Lisa's face. "I'm a psychic, and I deal with stuff that most people don't even believe in. But you _have_ to believe me on this. If you forgot this man, it was for a reason. I wouldn't try to bring back these memories if I were you. It may be too late already, but you need to stop trying to remember."

"Why? This isn't making any sense." Lisa's fingers were shaking, but she took a deep breath and controlled them. "What are you talking about?"

"That man," Kim said carefully, picking every word and never taking her eyes off Lisa's face, "is…known in certain circles. He's not evil…but he's not someone that you let in your front door without a reason. If he crossed your path, Lisa, it's better not to pursue that memory. It could…stir things up. Dangerous things."

"I really don't understand." Lisa felt her face flushing. "You are not making yourself clear, Kim."

"Listen, I know you probably think this is all fairytales. Just trust me. You don't want to go there. You've got to believe me." Kim leaned forward and shook Lisa lightly by the shoulders. "Trust me on this."

Lisa shook her head and stood up abruptly. "I've got to go," she said. "I'm sorry, Kim, but none of this makes any sense."

Kim didn't argue. She stood in the doorway and watched as Lisa walked to her car.

The wind was rising, and autumn leaves swirled in dust devils across the road as Lisa drove home. Dean Winchester. The name would not leave her mind: it was like trying not to scratch an itch, or trying not to think of an elephant. The more she tried to think of something else, the more that name crowded into her brain.

Kim had said not to pursue that memory. But Lisa was beginning to find that she could do nothing else.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3: Broken Wall

By the time she reached home after her session with Kim, Lisa's fingers were white from gripping the steering wheel so hard. She pulled into her driveway and sat for a minute, trying to compose herself. She didn't want Ben to know that anything was wrong.

Finally, taking a deep breath, she pushed open the front door. "I'm home, sweetie," she called.

Her son was sitting at the kitchen table doing his homework, which was odd. Normally he locked himself in his room to study. He looked up at her, but did not smile; Lisa had the uncomfortable sensation that he was reading her mind. "Hi, Mom," he said, and his eyes followed her as she went to the fridge and peered in.

Lisa wasn't really looking for something to eat, and she wholeheartedly wished she had something to drink, but looking in the fridge kept her eyes away from Ben. Her whole world was full of a tense, cold, vibrating quietness like the silence of a snowy mountain before an avalanche. She didn't allow herself to acknowledge it in that moment, but in her heart she knew it was too late to hide from her memories.

"You need a snack, honey?" she asked, leaning on the cool metal of the fridge door.

"Maybe." Ben sounded doubtful. "I couldn't find anything in there."

"Well, I'll make you something. Come on. What do you want?" She smiled at him, gaining more control of her face and voice.

"You know what we haven't had in a long time?" Ben's eyes brightened.

"What?"

"Pie. Can you make apple pie?"

Pie. Such a simple, all-American word, denoting every comfort of home and family. And yet, in Lisa's brain, when Ben said that word, it sounded like a gunshot in the still cold valley below the snowy mountains—and above her she heard the rumble of the snow, coming down to drown her.

That moment lasted a second, maybe two, and then she remembered.

Dean Winchester. The face, the voice, the body, the quick movements and the strong hands that held her gently—that time in 1999…maybe it was for the best that that memory came back to her first, because the rush that followed swallowed her up. Everything. That year with him—Sam came back, and she knew it was over—oh, God, was she remembering right? She had been possessed, and all that ugly black polluted feeling swamped her. Ben. She had tried to hurt Ben, and then they were in the hospital…and she'd never seen Dean again. Rage and fear and loss flooded her heart.

"Mom? Mom! MOM!" Ben's voice rattled her eardrums, and she opened her eyes. She was lying on the kitchen floor, and her son was bending over her with utter panic on his face. "Mom, wake up!"

"I'm awake," she said groggily, her mother-instinct kicking in. She tried to push herself up to a sitting position.

"What's the matter?" Ben dropped on his knees by her side, and looking at him through her half-closed eyes, Lisa saw him in a whole new light. He had been through so much, and he didn't even know it. She couldn't tell him. He was only a kid.

"I guess I passed out." She propped herself against the kitchen cabinet, rubbing her hand across her face: clammy sweat trickled through her fingers. "I'm sorry, sweetie. I didn't mean to scare you."

Oh, but she had scared him before. That was the worst memory, where the demon in her body had held a knife to her son's throat. She had been in there, screaming, fighting with everything she was worth.

"Do I need to call 911?" Ben's face was white, but he was fairly calm now. He got her a glass of water and crouched by her side.

"No, no, I'm all right now." It was a lie, of course, but she managed a smile. "I'm so sorry I scared you." So sorry. So, so sorry. "I forgot to eat anything today, and I guess I just got a little dizzy. Don't worry, Ben." She held out her hands. "Help me up."

Ben walked with her into the living room. "I'm going to make you a sandwich," he said. "I'll be right back, Mom."

He was such a good kid. Lisa closed her eyes after he left the room and moaned softly to herself. It was all too much. The nice, normal life that she thought she had was gone. It had never existed in the first place—at least not after 1999.

Her emotions were all jumbled up, but anger kept bursting to the surface: anger at herself and at Dean. Why had she gotten involved with him? Why? And yet, in all the anger, she knew that she had always loved him. He was the only man she had ever loved…and just ten minutes ago, she'd been thinking that she had never been in love.

Ben came back and sat with her, so she had to force down the sandwich, even though she thought she might vomit. "I think I'm going to go to bed early," she said shakily when she was done.

"Okay." Ben walked upstairs with her, and she gave him a hug before closing her bedroom door and sinking onto the bed, alone at last.

"God," she said, and buried her head in her hands. "Oh, my God."

There was no doubt in her mind that Dean had somehow managed to wipe her memory and her son's. He'd been trying to protect them, because after the demons—she shuddered violently—after the demons came, he had known there was no way they'd ever be safe.

It was wrong, it was so wrong, but it was so _Dean_, and even in her anger she knew that he'd done it because he saw no other way. And it had kept her and Ben safe for years.

But now she knew. She remembered what had happened to her and what had happened to her son…and she wondered if they were no longer safe.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

After the mental strain of the past couple of days, Lisa was exhausted, and she fell asleep without realizing it, lying back on the bed in her clothes. Even in her sleep, her memories swirled in her mind, as real and vivid as life, and when she awoke at four in the morning, she thought for a second that Dean was lying next to her.

She got up and looked out her window at the streetlamps glowing in the pre-dawn murkiness. The weather seemed to have changed to winter overnight; cold oozed in through the panes and chilled her skin.

A deeper chill had filled her soul by now, and as she turned to pace back and forth across the carpet, she shivered violently.

Out of all the memories—good and bad—the one that held her attention now was the memory of being possessed. She had been trapped in her own body, screaming without a voice, fighting without strength, and her own hands had held the knife that threatened her son.

Now that she had her memories back, she saw how full of danger the world really was. She had been possessed once: it could happen again. A creeping dread clutched at her chest as she walked back and forth. It could happen again. It could happen again. How was she going to keep Ben safe, now that she remembered what kind of monsters lurked in the darkness?

This was her main concern right now, above anything else. Her own emotions could be dealt with later. But she had no idea what to do, or whether she should do anything at all.

Downstairs, she made a cup of coffee and watched the dawn peek into the windows.

"Mom?" Ben shuffled into the kitchen in his pajamas, his dark hair sticking up on one side. "Are you feeling better?"

"I'm fine, sweetie. You're up early."

"I kept having weird dreams." Ben went to the refrigerator and got out the orange juice.

A tingle shot up Lisa's spine, but she managed to keep her voice calm. "Oh, yeah? What about?"

She couldn't see Ben's face as he poured his orange juice. "I dunno. Just weird. You know how sometimes when you dream, it feels real even after you wake up?"

This was not good. Every mother-sense in Lisa's body told her this was not good. Her fingers tightened on her coffee mug as she held it to her mouth, peering over the edge. "Yeah, I've had those dreams before. It's just a psychological thing, I guess."

"I guess." Ben tilted his head at her, squinting just a little, his honest, calm eyes holding embarrassed curiosity. "You didn't—like—you didn't ever date somebody with a really cool classic car, did you? A black Impala?"

"Oh, God," Lisa said before she could stop herself.

"What?"

"Oh, God, _no_, of course not. I don't have a thing for guys who drive cars like that." She took a huge swallow of coffee and choked on it.

Ben gave her the you're-lying-and-I-can-tell look. He'd learned it from her. "Sure," he said, drawing the word out slowly. "Well, I have to get ready from school."

Lisa's heart was racing as she listened to him jog up the stairs. No, no, _no_, she thought. This isn't possible. He's starting to remember.

As soon as Ben was out of the house on his way to school, Lisa dialed Kim.

"Lisa? Is something wrong?"

"I need to talk to you. Meet me at the studio in ten. It's urgent, Kim."

The two women were the first ones in the parking lot, and they unlocked the door of the studio and went in together in silence, the cold wind tearing at their jackets.

"What's wrong?" Kim asked, as soon as they were in the hall.

"I remember everything," Lisa said, pulling Kim along to the office.

Kim sucked in her breath. "I was afraid that would happen."

"It's not good. What I remembered—I was with Dean, we were _together_, for a year. And then I was possessed."

"You mean like, a demonic possession?" Kim's eyes widened, and she clenched her hands together for a second.

"That's exactly what I mean. While I was possessed, we were kidnapped, and I—I tried to hurt Ben. That's when I ended up in the hospital, and I guess that's when our memories were wiped clean of everything. To keep us safe."

Kim's eyes were huge and round, and her mouth moved, but no sound came out for a few moments. "You were possessed?" she said again, finally.

"Yes. I'm telling you, I remember everything. But that's not the issue right now, Kim." Lisa reached out and took Kim's shoulders, staring her in the face. "I'm afraid Ben is starting to remember too."

"This is way beyond my pay grade," Kim said. She shook her head slowly, back and forth, her eyes still wide.

"Kim, you're the only one I can talk to. I need help. I need to know what to do. I need to know how to keep Ben from remembering, and I need to know how to make sure he's safe."

"It's not surprising that Ben is starting to remember," Kim said. She slowly reached up and took Lisa's hands off her shoulders.

Lisa sank onto the edge of the desk. "Why?" she asked helplessly.

"A mother and son have a psychic tie, especially when they're as close as you two are. And if the act that wiped your memory was the same that wiped his, it stands to reason that when one of you starts to remember, the other one will as well. You may not be able to stop that, Lisa."

"No." Tears threatened to fill Lisa's eyes, but she straightened her shoulders and blinked them back. "Do you know how much it hurt him when Dean left? I don't want to see him go through that pain again."

"Listen." Kim put her hands on her hips, looking down at her friend. "I'm telling you, this is way beyond me. You've obviously been involved in things that I've got no experience with, but…I know somebody. I think you should talk to him."

"Who?"

"Father Andrews."

"A priest?"

"Well...of sorts." Kim half-smiled.

"Do you think he can help me figure out what to do?" Lisa sighed. "I just…I'm so torn up right now. All I want is to make sure my son is safe."

"I understand. It sounds like you've been through a lot." Kim patted her shoulder. "If anybody can help, it's Father Andrews." She glanced out the door. "Here come the first of your students now. Why don't I make a call, and then if necessary I'll take your afternoon class so you can go talk to him?"

"Thanks, Kim." Lisa stood up.

"No problem."

Just a few days ago, Lisa would not have dreamed that she'd spend her afternoon driving into one of the seedier areas of the city to visit an expert on the occult. Well, things changed, she thought grimly, as she drove past boarded-up warehouses and collapsed buildings behind barbed-wire fences.

"Make a right after Conner's Diner," Kim had said. Was this Conner's Diner? The name rang some odd bell: something on the news once, a shooting, probably. The building was in shambles, glass shattered out of all the windows, awning shredded and dragging on the ground, a few strands of yellow caution tape fluttering in the wind.

Lisa made a right and parked the car on a side street, in front of the narrow yellow brick building she'd been told to look for. The entire street was deserted except for her: no people, no cars, nothing but the icy air that seemed to be getting colder by the minute.

She couldn't even hear any traffic when she got out of the car. Strange, for a place in the heart of the city. She stepped carefully over the broken sidewalk to the door.

Not for the first time, she felt doubt about this whole expedition. The door was purple, an odd contrast with the yellow brick, and the doorknob was made of pale, polished wood—at least that's what Lisa hoped it was—with pentagrams carved in it, and symbols she did not know. There was no sign, nothing.

She looked back at her car, then pressed her lips together firmly. There was no going back, no pretending, no ignoring reality.

Firmly, she knocked on the door.


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

It took a few minutes for the door to open, long enough for Lisa's doubts and fears to crowd back into her mind, but she stood her ground as she saw the carved doorknob turning from the inside.

She hadn't known what kind of a man to expect—a priest with long robes and a Gandalf-style beard, maybe, or wearing black with a clerical collar, like something out of the Exorcist. Looking at the man in the doorway, she wasn't sure she had found the right person.

He was forty-five or fifty, if that, solidly built, with thick muscles peeking beneath his short-sleeved burgundy shirt. Brown eyes, dark hair and skin that hinted at some Italian ancestry. The only thing that indicated religion was his clerical collar, stark white against the deeper color of his shirt.

"Lisa," he said. It wasn't a question. "Come in."

She followed him without a word. All her doubts had vanished when she saw the man. She was not the most trusting of people, but Father Andrews was someone she could trust. After all these days of fear and pain, she took a little comfort in that. It was like a breath of fresh air after being trapped in a coffin.

He led her straight upstairs, not looking back or speaking. Lisa caught little more than a glimpse of the front hall: some odd symbols painted on the walls, a shotgun on hooks. She noticed that the stair railing was made of solid iron.

"Please," Father Andrews said, motioning her into a room at the top of the stairs. Lisa went in past him and sat down in one of the old but comfy chairs near a large desk. There were shelves of books and cases of objects everywhere; she was pretty sure she didn't want to know what the brain-like thing under glass on a table was. A skeleton with a hunched back grinned in a corner, dangling from an iron hook on the wall, its rattling toes just barely skimming the floor.

"It's all right," the priest said, catching Lisa's glance. "He's perfectly safe as long as you don't take him off the hook."

Lisa hoped he was joking, but she couldn't be sure. She looked away.

"Tell me what's going on." Father Andrews' voice was quiet but interested.

Lisa sighed and put one hand over her face for a second. "From the beginning?"

"From the beginning. Would you like some coffee first?"

"No, no thank you." She couldn't imagine what this guy's kitchen looked like. Taking a deep breath, she plunged into the story. Meeting Dean—although she left out the details, naturally—then the time he saved Ben from the changelings—everything she knew about the Apocalypse, and Sam, and how Dean came back to her afterwards, broken and drinking, with a hole in his heart that she could never fill. But she'd tried, that year that he lived with her. How she'd tried!

"And then Sam was back," she said, her voice flat. "I knew it was over as soon as I saw him. Dean's a hunter. It's his life, and I know that. I don't…I really don't blame him for going back to it, but I had a responsibility to my son. I had to break things off, and for a while I thought we were doing okay."

She stopped for a second, feeling as if she couldn't breathe, then took a deep breath. "Then the demons came. They killed the guy I was seeing, they kidnapped me and Ben, and then one of them possessed me."

Would she ever be able to forget that slimy, poisonous, black feeling? It clung to her when she talked about it, and the air smelled like sulfur. "I tried to kill Ben, and then I guess I stabbed myself before Dean exorcised me. Then he got us to the hospital, and somehow he wiped our memories. For the past few years, I didn't remember any of this."

"How did the memories come back to you?"

"God, I was so stupid." Lisa buried her face in her hands for a moment before looking up almost angrily. "I _tried_ to bring them back. Kim—you know her, she's the one who called you—Kim helped me, but it wasn't her fault. I should have never tried to remember."

"You can't blame yourself for that." Father Andrews smiled patiently. "See, that's the problem with memory wiping, time traveling, all that stuff…you can't always tell what the consequences are going to be. You can beat yourself up for no reason at all, or you can accept what's happened and go on."

Lisa laughed hollowly. "Problem is, I don't know how to go on, or what to do. I'm afraid that Ben's starting to remember too."

"Most likely." Father Andrews nodded. "You and your son are, in this case, most likely something of a unit. He will probably remember everything very soon."

"Can we stop it from happening?" Lisa's fingers twitched on the edge of the chair.

"Why would we try?"

"These memories will hurt him. I don't want him to know. I don't want him to remember!"

"How do you feel about Dean wiping _your_ memories, Lisa?"

"This isn't about me," Lisa said sharply.

"Of course it is. How do you feel about it?"

Lisa paused for a moment. "He had no right to do that to me," she said finally. "I should have been able to make that choice. He took away a lot of bad memories, it's true. But some things…" she stopped. No, she couldn't talk about that, about how she'd lost the memory of his touch, his smile. The memory of how her heart beat faster when she caught a glimpse of him raking leaves in the yard, his hair tousled in the wind. She might cry if she talked about that, and she was not known for crying. "If he was here right now, I would kick his _ass_ for doing that to me," she said finally.

"But you want your son to forget."

"He's still a kid. This stuff…it's too much."

"What is better? For him to grow up believing a lie, or knowing the truth?"

Lisa did not answer. Ben was such an honest kid, a straight arrow when it came to the truth. But still, for him to have to remember all this…

"It's not like you can stop it anyway," Father Andrews said quietly. "I'm pretty sure it's too late to keep the wall in his mind from coming down. The only thing you can do is be there for him when it happens."

"But what now? I was possessed once. Can it happen again? Will we be safe?" Lisa leaned forward, her eyes burning into the man's face.

"You've been possessed once," Father Andrews said. He interlaced his fingers like a temple and looked at them meditatively. "Unfortunately, it _is_ possible for demons to recognize that. They enjoy "coming home," so to speak. It increases your risk somewhat."

"What can I do?" Lisa asked.

"The best thing for both you and Ben to do would be to get an anti-possession mark tattooed on your bodies. I know someone who will do it, and in the meantime you can wear these amulets." He stood up, opened a drawer in the desk, and tossed her two little leather bags.

Of course. How had she forgotten that? Dean's chest, gleaming in the light from her bedside lamp as he pulled off his shirt, that dark pentagram with flames just below his collar bone. She'd brushed it with the tips of her fingers as he lay next to her, but his muscles had stiffened just a little, and she'd left it alone. He'd told her it was an anti-possession symbol, and now she felt a flash of anger at him. He'd never thought to have his family warded against demons?

"It would have saved a lot of trouble if we'd had these earlier," she said aloud with a grimace.

"Like I told you, Lisa." Father Andrews' hand dropped on her shoulder. "The past is past. You've got to make your life now."

"Do you think, if we do this, that we'll be safe?" Lisa stood and faced him.

"There's no guarantees." The priest shook his head. "You've got a past with Dean Winchester. I don't want to scare you, but sometimes demons tune in to psychic frequencies, so to speak. If for some reason they think they could benefit from harming you, they wouldn't hesitate to try."

"Then you need to show me how to fight back." Lisa straightened her shoulders. "I'm going to protect my son."

He smiled at her, the dark-haired slim woman standing in front of him with defiance in her eyes. "That's the first thing you need," he said. "The will to fight." Walking over to a bookshelf, he returned with an armload of books. "Let's get started," he said.

Lisa absorbed everything the priest told her, writing notes, carefully drawing diagrams and symbols as he showed them to her in his books. They worked together for several hours, until she glanced at the clock and realized that Ben would be getting out of school in twenty minutes.

"I need to be home for Ben," she said.

"You care about him a lot," Father Andrews said, looking at her across the desk.

"He's my son," she said simply.

"I know." He closed the book in front of him, still looking at her with his deep eyes. "But what about you, Lisa?"

"What about me?"

"You're torn up inside, and you won't admit it. You can't bottle that pain forever?"

"My feelings don't matter right now," Lisa said.

"You still love Dean," the priest told her quietly. "What are you going to do about that?"

"Nothing!" Lisa's voice was sharper than she intended. "We broke up. It's been over for a long time."

"I see," Father Andrews said. His eyes, though serious, held some faint glimmer of amusement. "Well, you'd better get back to your son. Call me if anything happens."

"I will. Thank you."

"Be careful out there," he said, holding the door open for her. Then it clicked shut, and Lisa found herself alone again on the broken sidewalk.


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6

Lisa was so glad to see Ben when she got home that she swept him into a bear hug. "Mom!" he said, protesting and wriggling out of it, then looking at her with that hint of worry in his eyes. "Is something the matter?"

"Sorry." Lisa let go of her son and stood back. He was a teenager, and not really that into hugs. She knew that, but she just couldn't help herself. "You're a good kid, you know that, Ben?" Her voice cracked a little.

His brow wrinkled. "What did I do? You're acting kind of weird, Mom."

"I know, I know, I'm sorry. What do you want for dinner? Pizza? Do you want delivery?"

He was still suspicious, she could tell, but no boy his age would turn down pizza. They called in a delivery order for a large pepperoni. That had always been Dean's order, too, Lisa thought in a white-hot flash of memory as she dialed her phone. Her fingers shook on the buttons, but she steadied herself, glancing across the kitchen at Ben, who was digging through his backpack for something.

It was so odd, remembering family meals: Dean cracking open a cold beer (she always kept them in the fridge for him), Ben chattering about school, Lisa herself smiling, feeling a warm rush as Dean's hand touched her back when she sat down. The memories seared her soul, and when the pizza came, she had a hard time eating anything.

"How was school?" she asked Ben, trying not to let him see that she was watching him closely. Had he remembered anything? she wondered. Oh, God, how it was going to hurt him if he did.

The amulets that Father Andrews had given her were still in her pocket. She wouldn't give him one yet—not until he remembered.

"It was fine." Ben shrugged, noncommittal.

"How's math? Is it getting better?" Lisa looked across the table at his half-open backpack.

"Um." Hastily he stuffed his mouth full of pizza.

Lisa raised her eyebrows; she knew his evasive techniques like the back of her hand. "Still having trouble, aren't you?" She reached into his backpack and pulled out his math book, opening it to a scratched and scribbled sheet of paper. "I can help you if you need me to."

"No, no, really, I can do it. I'll figure it out tonight." For some reason Ben seemed to want to get the book away from her as fast as possible, and when Lisa looked at the paper in front of her she realized why.

Apparently he had spent the whole of math class sketching a beautiful Chevy Impala. It was quite good, actually; Ben had developed a talent for sketches, pen-and-pencil work, but he didn't do it often. Lisa looked down at it, her mouth tightening.

"I can see why you're having trouble with math," she said after a moment, and in spite of everything, her mouth quirked in a tiny smile. Poor Ben. She didn't have the heart to be angry.

"I'm sorry, Mom. I just couldn't concentrate today."

"It's all right." She handed him his book and paper. "Why don't you go on up to your room and finish your homework? When you're done we can watch a movie. You want to?"

"Sure."

He went upstairs, and Lisa tried mindlessly to clean the kitchen before going into the living room and collapsing on the sofa.

She fell asleep without meaning to, and when she woke up it was already nine-thirty. "Ben?" she called softly, and when she heard no answer she went upstairs and peeked in his half-open door.

He was asleep in his clothes on top of his quilt, his head resting on an open book. Lisa tiptoed in and laid a throw blanket over him, gently pulling the book from under his head. He didn't wake up, and she kissed his forehead before sneaking out of the room again.

In her own room, she tried to think, but it was hard. Everything had been going so well, and all of a sudden she didn't know where her path lay. It was like a sudden fog, thick as soup, had blanketed her entire life.

And there was so much pain. It was when she was alone, with nothing to do but lie in the darkness, that the pain really came to her. Dean…oh, _Dean._ That voice, that face, those hands, his broken heart…but he'd found the will to go on, and somehow she would have to do the same.

The moon, full and round, peeked stalkerishly through her window blinds. Lisa wondered where Dean was now. Was he looking at the same moon, chasing some werewolf through the woods with Sam by his side? Was he even alive?

That last thought—that Dean might be dead—caused a sudden wave of nausea that made Lisa sit up suddenly. No. That couldn't be possible. He was out there somewhere. No matter how angry she was at him, no matter what threat she made to kick his ass if she ever saw him again, the thought that he could be gone was unbearable. She stood up, throwing off her covers, and opened the window. She felt as if she couldn't breathe.

Of course he was alive. She could probably find him, if she wanted to. Father Andrews—he might know a way…

"Are you _nuts_?" she asked herself out loud, staring into the darkness. "Are you freaking _crazy_, Lisa Braeden?" She slammed her window shut harder than she intended, and went back to her bed. How had she even allowed that thought to enter her mind?

"Remember what happened last time?" she said, not caring that she was talking out loud to herself. Her door was shut, and Ben was asleep. "Oh, that worked out so well for both of you. You have got to be kidding!"

Her hands were clammy now. "It wouldn't matter if it was just you, but you have a son to take care of. You're the one who has to keep him safe."

A heaviness fell on her shoulders, and she closed her eyes. "Nothing's changed," she murmured. "Nothing's changed."

She had given up Dean because of Ben, and Dean had given her up because he couldn't change who he was. And because of Sam, damn him. Lisa's thoughts trailed and fizzled, and she was dozing when she thought she heard someone crying.

She woke up at once, her mother-ears always alert for signs of trouble, and tiptoed out into the upper hall. The noise was definitely coming from her son's room.

"Ben?" she whispered, pushing open his door.

He lifted his face from where he sat on the bed, wrapped in the blanket she had laid over him. His desk lamp was turned on, casting weird shadows in the dark room.

"Ben, what's the matter, sweetie?" But she knew. Oh, she knew. She came into the room and hesitated, watching him.

His face changed rapidly, and she knew why. "N-Nothing," he stuttered. His face was white, and his hands gripped the edges of the blanket as if it was a matter of life and death. "Just-just a nightmare, I guess."

She knew how he was feeling, because she felt the same way herself. He remembered now, but he didn't know that she did. He was trying to protect her.

"I know, Ben," she said quietly, coming in and sitting down next to him.

"You know?" He looked at her. The pupils of his eyes were huge in the dim light.

"I started remembering a few days ago."

He breathed a shaky sigh, half relief and half shock. "It's all true, then, isn't it?" he said. "For a minute I was kinda hoping that it was just a dream."

"It's not a dream. It's all real." She put her arm around him, and this time he didn't wriggle away.

He sat silently, staring at the wall.

"It's a lot, Ben, I know." Tears welled up in Lisa's eyes. "Don't try to think too hard about it. Take your time." She swallowed hard. "I'm so sorry. Turns out we've had a bit of a sucky life in spots, and I'm so sorry that you had to go through all that."

Still, for a while, Ben said nothing. At last he spoke. "Are we in danger, now that we remember everything?"

"No. Not now, anyway. But there are things we need to do to make sure it stays that way."

"I remember what…Dean…said to me at the hospital. He told me to take care of you." Ben's voice was surprisingly calm, and he looked Lisa straight in the eyes. "What do we need to do?"

"Well, first things first." Again a glimmer of humor sparkled in Lisa's eyes. After all, if she didn't laugh, she might cry. "I might be the first mother in the world to say this, but I'd like you to get a tattoo."


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter 7

Damn this stinking roadhouse in this miserable backwoods town, Crowley thought as he glanced over his shoulder at Dean, who was throwing back shots at the bar. Had the King of Hell really been reduced to this? To this filthy, classless life that so strongly reminded him of his human days over three hundred years ago? He was _King_!

He knew that his followers snickered behind his back…he knew. They did not give him enough credit, but at least they still feared him. He glared at the demon wearing a lawyer's meatsuit, who was beckoning him outside.

"Well?" he asked, sucking in the crisp air of North Dakota. Far too cold for his taste, really. He preferred…a warmer climate. But that was Dean's doing: in his present state, the Winchester had a taste for cold and dreary landscapes.

"Sir," the demon began instantly, "we have a report."

Crowley peered at him. It was Gregor, a demon he hadn't seen in a few years. Not since he'd assigned him one specific task, actually. A report from that quarter was actually quite surprising. The King of Hell raised his eyebrows.

"Has she regained her memories?"

"She has, sir."

"And her son?"

"I believe so. I was not able to get confirmation of that, because I have limited access to her…"

"Limited access?" Crowley eyed Gregor's trim, athletic meatsuit in the well-cut slacks and shirt. "By now you should be _sleeping_ with the woman. What in the fiery inferno are you _doing_? How are you keeping watch on her actions?"

"I—uh, I…" Gregor hesitated, and Crowley was amused to see embarrassed red creeping up his neck. He hid his amusement, though. "I'm…in the yoga class she teaches, sir."

Behind Crowley, his two closest followers snickered a little. The red flush spread over Gregor's face. "I did make an attempt…to seduce her, but she hasn't slept with a man since her memories were erased."

"You never had much success with the ladies," Crowley said with dry mockery. "Not even when you were human, isn't that right?"

The snicker behind him was louder now. Sycophants, all of them, turning whichever way the wind blew. Crowley was sick of it. His thoughts flashed back to Dean, inside at the bar. The man—ahem—_demon_ had his own problems, but he would never be boot-licking scum like this.

He paused to think. This new development—Lisa Braeden recovering her memories—had the potential to cause complications. He had always been concerned about what might happen if she remembered her life with Dean, but had satisfied himself with assigning Gregor to watch her for the past few years. There was no sense killing her off, first because of Castiel, and later because he regarded her as an asset…a string to pull if needed.

But right now, all he wanted was to make sure she stayed away from Dean. The last thing Crowley's pet project needed was a woman from the past. Dean might be swayed, even now, from the path that Crowley had laid out for him.

"You need to get closer to her," Crowley said aloud to Gregor. "I want you to prevent her from making any contact with the Winchesters."

"Prevent?" Gregor repeated, and an unhealthy gleam shone in his eyes.

"For Lucifer's sake, don't _kill_ her," Crowley said irritably. "Not unless I order you to. Just get closer. You'll never make it in that meatsuit, obviously. Has she got a friend, someone she'd let into the house?"

"There's a woman who works with her, a friend. She was the first one that the Braeden woman told about her memories."

"Perfect." Crowley snapped his fingers. "Possess her." He turned to go, considering the interview over, but turned back as Gregor hesitated. "_What_?"

"I would never presume to contradict you, sir, but perhaps I could find a different…man…to possess? She might be more attracted to another type."

Crowley glared, and then the corner of his lip lifted in a sneer. "You actually want to sleep with the woman," he said. "I would advise you against that. Do you want to know what would happen if the Knight of Hell inside this bar were to find that out?"

Gregor's eyes flicked instantly to the door of the roadhouse. "You are right, of course, sir," he replied quickly. "I will do as you say."

Crowley waved his hand impatiently and turned back to the door as Gregor got into a Lexus parked at the curb. To his surprise, his two henchmen stepped in front of him.

"Sir, will you give us a moment?"

"What now?" He wanted to get back inside, back to his new friend.

"We were just wondering," the bolder of the two said a little nervously, "when you might be ready to return to the throne of Hell?"

"Is it your place to question me?" Crowley began, but paused as he saw the looks on their faces. No—he'd try a little more smooth talking. Wasn't that what he did best? After all, he had been previously the King of the Crossroads. He looked meaningfully at the door.

"He's not ready," he told them in a low voice. "Not yet. I need a little more time to make sure that he's at full power—that he has adjusted fully."

The demons looked doubtful, but stepped aside as Crowley pushed open the door and strode back into the bar.

He took a seat beside Dean, who had at this point imbibed more alcohol than would have been humanly possible. Dean. All this trouble and work over the past year to get to this point: to a new and (in Crowley's opinion) improved Dean Winchester. And yet now Crowley was not sure of his control over his new Knight of Hell.

"Don't you think you've had enough?" Crowley stirred as Dean raised his finger for another round.

Dean shot him a scornful look. "Shut up," he said, raising the glass.

"No, but really." Crowley laid a persuasive hand on Dean's arm as he set the glass down with a thud. "Aren't you getting a bit tired of all this? There are so many bigger and better things for us both."

Dean shrugged. "I like it here." He looked around the room, his eyes hard and steady, then back at Crowley. "For the first time in—forever—I'm actually enjoying myself."

Crowley sighed. This news about Lisa Braeden had shaken his complacency a little. He needed to get Dean out of this place, make sure his demonic spirit was fully hardened. At the same time, he wanted to test him a little, see if his human passions still flickered in the ashes of his soul. Looking for an opening, he nodded at the pretty waitress Dean had been flirting with all evening.

"Bit young and silly for you, isn't she?" he asked, making his voice contemptuous. "You had better taste when you were human. Remember that one yoga teacher? Lisa? Much more your type, I thought."

Dean's expression did not change. He stared straight ahead, again signaling for a drink. Draining the glass, and still facing straight ahead, he spoke in a low voice, and the King of Hell felt as if the temperature had dropped below freezing in a second.

"You mention her name again, Crowley, and I'll put my blade through your filthy black heart."


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter 8

Lisa rubbed gently at the itchy skin where her week-old tattoo was healing on her right hip. She had opted for the hip because it was an easily-hidden area; she would have had it placed on her low back but that area had already been—ahem—decorated. She grinned ruefully at the memory of getting her tramp stamp. Had that really been her? Young, drunk, happy, carefree? Damn, that was a long time ago.

It had been so strange, taking Ben to that seedy, dark tattoo shop in a nearly-abandoned office building on the riverfront. The artist with the thin, braided beard and the snaggle teeth hadn't done much to restore Lisa's confidence, either, but she had to admire his finished work. He was a surprising master of clean, crisp lines.

Ben had insisted on having his tattoo put on his upper left chest, a move that surprised Lisa. He wanted it to be like Dean's, she could tell, and she was relieved and worried at the same time. Maybe he wasn't as angry and hurt as she feared; maybe, like her, he understood Dean's actions in a way. At the same time—her mind flashed back to when Dean had taught her son how to knock out a bully, and she winced. She'd have to talk to Ben, make sure he understood that Dean wasn't coming back into their lives. They'd been through this once. They couldn't do it again.

Now, standing in front of her bathroom mirror, she carefully patted some lotion onto the slightly-red skin on her hip. It was time to go to work; Ben had already left for school. She hurried downstairs and locked the front door as she left. It had only been a little over a week ago that she wouldn't have worried too much about the front door.

Not that door locks were much protection against demons, anyway. Lisa knew that from experience. And that knowledge had made her determined to protect herself and her son in any way she could. Every day she'd been going over to Father Andrews' after work, learning spells, exorcisms, protections for her home, how to set traps, and how to use all the things that would wound or slow down a demon. Salt, holy water, iron: she had it all.

And she'd started taking Ben with her when she went to the priest's house. She hadn't wanted to, but if for some horrible reason she and her son became separated, he _had _to be able to take care of himself. God, how she worried about her son!

She was so lost in her thoughts that she almost passed the yoga studio. Turning in quickly, she parked and walked to the building.

"Morning, girl. How are you?" Kim reached out and gave her arm a quick squeeze as she passed in the hall. "Everything ok?"

"Yeah." Lisa smiled half-heartedly. She hadn't talked to Kim much in the past few days; she'd been too busy. "Ok, I guess."

"You sure?" Kim gave her a narrow-eyed look over a mug of green tea. "Look at you. Have you even slept this past week? We need to talk, Lisa. I want to hear what's going on."

"Well, if anybody deserves to know, I guess it's you." Lisa downed a cup of coffee in the back room. "I'm sorry, Kim. It's a whole new world for me."

"Well, hey, why don't you grab a bite to eat with me after work, and you can fill me in then?" Kim asked brightly, leaning against the desk.

"I would, but…" Lisa hesitated. "With things the way they are, I don't like to leave Ben alone at the house too long."

"Totally understand. Well, then, why don't I just swing by the house? I'll pick up some takeout, and we can have a chat."

"That sounds good." Lisa smiled at her friend. Kim was such a sweet person, she really was. "Let's do it." She peered into the yoga studio down the hall, then raised her eyebrows. "You know something, Kim? I don't see Pervy Greg this morning."

"Pervy Greg" was the favored nickname at the yoga studio for the man who was the most persistent of Lisa's students. He had been in every early-morning class of hers since she started at the studio. Sometimes he showed up in an evening class as well, but he had never, ever, missed a morning class, usually showing up a few minutes early and trying to get some one-on-one time with Lisa. It was one of the risks of the job: rich lawyer-type trying to get in the yoga teacher's pants. But this morning he wasn't there.

"You're right," Kim said, peeking in the room as well. "Maybe you've lost him, Lisa." She shook her head. "You should have encouraged him a little, maybe gone out to dinner. You know he wanted you to."

"Oh, please." Lisa snorted. "With Pervy Greg? Very funny, Kim." She tossed her hair, laughed, and went in to start the class.

As soon as work was over, she went home and greeted Ben as he came in from school. "Will you put a new salt line in front of the door?" she asked him, mentally noting how it was already starting to sound like a normal household chore. "Kim's coming over, but she will understand if she sees it."

"Sure, Mom." Ben reached into a cabinet and took out the salt. He looked at her over his shoulder. "I'm going over to Jeremy's house tonight to study, since you and I aren't going down to Father Andrews' place."

"What?" Lisa froze.

"I said I'm going to Jeremy's house."

"You can't do that," Lisa said shakily. "Their house isn't protected. It isn't safe. I worry enough about you at school as it is."

"Mom." Ben set the salt down on the counter and faced her. "Jeremy isn't a demon. Neither are his parents. I'll be fine."

"No. I don't want you to go." Lisa put her hand on her throat, finding it hard to breathe. "You won't be safe. I can't be sure." The rush of words choked her, and her whole body trembled slightly.

"What are we going to do, Mom?" Ben asked quietly. She hadn't realized how much he'd grown up in just a week. He looked years older, and her heart twisted with pain. "We can't just hide here for the rest of our lives."

Lisa swallowed hard. "You're my only son," she said, her voice barely coming out above a whisper. "I can't lose you, Ben."

Ben shook his head, staring at her with a look wise beyond his years. "Look, Mom," he said at last. "I'll stay home tonight. But we can't live like this forever." Picking up the container of salt, he left the room.

Hot tears burned Lisa's eyes as she stood there. She sniffed, trying to hold them back. In her mind she knew he was right, but her heart screamed silently: _I've lost Dean, I can't lose Ben too._

Nervously she paced back and forth, finally going into the living room and flicking on the tv in the corner. Maybe the evening news would distract her.

"…a lawyer with a prominent firm downtown is dead after an apparent suicide. Gregory Houston, with Summers Financial, was found stabbed to death in his home, and police say all signs point to the wounds being self-inflicted…"

The tv flashed a picture of a well-dressed man, and Lisa sucked in her breath. Pervy Greg!

"The housekeeper discovered the body at 9:00 this morning."

The screen cut to a clip of a breathless, near-hysterical woman in a light blue uniform. "It was awful," she kept saying. "I hope I never see anything like it again. Oh, my God, there was blood everywhere!"

Feeling dull shock and nausea, Lisa shut off the television. A crawly, horrified chill snaked down her spine as she remembered her own brush with death—stabbing herself in the stomach. This news story might have nothing to do with her. She'd have to hope so, at least, but Greg of all people…the man who never missed a day in her class…she shivered violently.

A car door slammed outside, making her jump. Her nerves were shot. Brushing her hair out of her face, she went to the door and peeked out.

It was Kim, coming up the path to the front steps with her hands full of takeout boxes. Lisa swung the door open. "Here, Kim, let me help you," she called.

"Good idea," Kim said, pausing halfway up the steps. "Here, you take this one and this one—ouch!"

She had put her hand on the iron railing by the steps. She jerked her fingers away immediately, her face twisting for a second, and Lisa, standing in front of the door, saw her friend's eyes go black. Soulless, evil, vicious black.

"Well, damn it." Kim tossed the rest of her boxes into the bushes and stood on the steps for a moment, putting her hands on her hips and staring at Lisa. Her eyes were as clear and bright as usual. "I suppose there's no chance you didn't see that?"

"You're a demon," Lisa said. This was the moment of truth, the moment she had feared would come, but right here—right now—she was not afraid. She was furious. The bastards had taken her friend, the sweetest person she knew. Her mind was working faster than it had ever worked before. She took a step back, towards the open door behind her.

"Obviously." Kim sighed, and her eyes snapped to black again as she took a step towards Lisa. "I mean, the meatsuit's new, but you never did care for Greg."

Lisa took two quick steps back, inside the house, and as she did so, she dragged her toe inconspicuously across the salt line, breaking it. Kim followed her, her black eyes vacant and cold.

"You've been watching me all these years, haven't you?" Lisa asked, still retreating slowly with her eyes on Kim.

"I couldn't have asked for a better assignment, really. None of this end-of-the-world, demon-tablet, angel-tablet nonsense. Instead, I get to watch you and your lovely, lovely body day in and day out. Woman, the things you can _do_!"

It was truly odd, seeing Kim's face leering at her in that crassly sexual way, but Lisa let the words slide by, waiting.

She almost smiled when Kim froze in place.

"What did you do?" Kim asked sharply, twisting her head up to look at the ceiling. "What did you _do_?"

"Devil's trap under the carpet," Lisa said. Her voice was very steady, and she walked around Kim and closed the front door, shutting out the falling darkness. "Thanks for coming in."


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter 9

"Is Kim here?" Ben's voice in the dead silence sounded unusually loud. Lisa, standing in front of the devil's trap with a bottle of holy water already in her hand, looked up quickly.

"Ben, don't come downstairs," she called.

Her son was already on the landing, peering down, stopped in mid-motion by the tone in her voice. "What's going on?" He took two more steps, his eyes widening.

"Ben, _please_. Go back to your room." Lisa knew it was useless. As soon as Ben realized what was happening, he came downstairs in a flash.

"No, Mom. You might need help."

"Such a little man," Kim sneered. "Takes after his father, doesn't he, Lisa?"

Lisa winced. "Don't pay any attention to what she says, Ben." She glanced at her son, and saw his jaw harden in a way that reminded her so much of Dean.

"Don't worry, Mom," he said, and his voice was completely calm. "Remember? We've been through this before."

Kim laughed hysterically, a sound like nails on a chalkboard. It was hard to believe that noise could come out of a human throat. "Look at the confidence! The arrogance of both of you!" she shrilled. "You think some chance association with a Winchester has given you some kind of strength? Don't fool yourselves. Dean Winchester was born a hunter. You two—you're just ordinary, common meatsuits, completely incapable and…and…ordinary!"

Lisa tilted her head to one side. "Says the demon in the devil's trap," she observed dryly. Her blood was still boiling with rage that they had dared to take her friend, but her mind was clear, hard, and not afraid. She could sense that Ben, standing next to her, felt somewhat the same way.

"You had help for that." Kim's black eyes narrowed. "You never would have thought of it on your own. First thing I'm going to do after I'm finished with you is go tear out that priest's throat."

"No, you won't." Lisa's fingers tightened slightly on the bottle of holy water. "We're sending you back to Hell."

Again that horrible shrill laugh rattled the ceiling lights. Ben flinched slightly, and Lisa reached out and put her other hand on his shoulder. "So you're going to send me back to Hell?" the demon snarled, and suddenly Kim's voice deepened into that of a male. "You think Crowley won't send me back, or someone worse? He's been watching you for years—you're not going to throw him off your trail like that. He'll always be watching you."

"Are you finished?" Lisa said. "Ben, bring me the book." She knew the exorcism by heart—she had memorized it the day Father Andrews taught it to them—but she was taking no chances. Ben sprinted into the living room and returned with the book of spells, flipping it to the right page.

"Exorcizamus te," Lisa began, "omnis immundus spiritus…"

"Are you _insane_?" the demon shrieked in Kim's voice, writhing under the words. "You don't even know what you're _doing_!"

"It seems to be working," Lisa observed, her voice cold. She looked at Ben, standing beside her. "You okay?"

"I'm fine, Mom. Keep going."

"Omnis satanica potestas…"

"I'm telling you, Crowley will just send someone else," the demon gasped. Kim's large, clear eyes turned on Lisa. "I'm not so bad, really. I'm not here to hurt you, just to watch you. Crowley will have my head for giving away the game like this. Come on, Lisa, if I wanted to hurt you I could have done that any time. I mean, I'm a lover, really. I'd love to spread your beautiful—aaaah!"

Lisa had thrown half the bottle of holy water in the demon's face. Screaming, the demon cowered in the middle of the trap.

"Let's get a couple of things straight," Lisa said. "One, you do not talk like that in front of my son. Two, I don't care who Crowley sends to take your place, _you_ are going back to Hell. Now, Ben, let's read."

"Omnis incursion infernalis adversarii…" Together Lisa and Ben recited the words, no longer pausing or listening to the screams of the demon. When the cloud of black smoke erupted from Kim's mouth and then scorched the carpet on its way to the fiery pit, the mother and son stood steadily, not moving until it was gone.

Then Lisa sprinted into action. "Kim? Kim, sweetie?" She dashed forward and felt for her friend's pulse. It was barely there.

Ben knelt beside her. "Is she okay?" He sounded shaken and young now, in spite of his strength during the exorcism.

"She will be," Lisa said with a confidence she did not actually have. "Kim, wake up! Come on, come on, come on…"

She was almost ready to call 911 when Kim's eyes fluttered open. Her own eyes, no longer black. "Lisa?" she murmured in confusion.

"Here, Ben, help me get her to the couch." Lisa lifted her friend's shoulders, and together she and Ben got Kim into the living room.

After an hour or so, Kim was sitting up, shaken, weak, and fully aware of what had just happened. "I was awake for all of it," she said, her eyes wide and her hands trembling as they wrapped around a mug of coffee. "Everything…it was horrible. So horrible." She burst into tears.

"Ben?" Lisa wrapped her arms around her friend and glanced up at her son. "Would you give us a little time alone, please?"

He nodded and disappeared while Lisa did her best to soothe the other woman. But Kim would not be soothed. In fact, as she regained control, she became angry. Lisa could see it in her stiffened shoulders as she sat on the couch.

"I'm so sorry this happened to you," she said, folding her hands in her lap as she sat beside Kim.

"Yeah, I'll bet you are." Kim shrugged stiffly.

"I am," Lisa said. "You've helped me so much, Kim, and I never dreamed it would come back on you like this."

"Well, it did." Kim set down the coffee cup deliberately and rose to her feet. "Look, Lisa, you're a good person, and I know this isn't your fault, but…I've got to protect myself. I can't have anything to do with somebody who's being watched by demons. You understand, don't you?"

"Of course." Lisa's heart sank, but she tried to hide it. "I understand. It's fine, Kim." She moved with her to the front door. "You're still a little shaky. Can I drive you home or—or anything?"

"No, I'd prefer to drive myself." Kim pulled her keys out of her jacket. "Goodbye, Lisa."

"Goodbye," Lisa called. She watched Kim's car peel away from the curb, and stood in the doorway a few minutes longer before slowly sliding to a seat on the floor.

"Is she angry?" Ben's voice interrupted Lisa's dark thoughts. He came and stood in the open doorway beside her; although it was cold outside, they both felt a need to see the sky, with the moon hanging in a misty aura over the trees.

"Yes." Lisa sighed. Ben sat down near her, and she reached out and patted his shoulder. "What about you, Ben? Are you angry?"

"About what?" Ben did not turn towards her; he kept his eyes on the hanging moon.

"Everything. I mean, if I hadn't ever dated Dean, none of this would have happened. We'd be completely normal."

"You didn't know that."

"I should have figured it out pretty quick." Lisa grinned ruefully.

"Do you still love him, Mom?"

Lisa hesitated. The dark trees rustled in the shadows. Should she be honest with him? After all, lying never led to good things. After all this, she ought to know that. "Yes, I love him," she said. "I think I always will."

"Then why don't you try to find him? Why don't you tell him what's going on? He could help."

"Ben, I don't know if you understand. It's been years. I'm sure he's…moved on with his life by now."

There was silence for a long time before Ben's shoulders slumped a little as he sat outlined against the night. "I miss him," he said. "He was like…my dad. The only one I ever had."

"Oh, Ben." Lisa swallowed hard. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry." She put her arm around him, and for a few minutes he leaned against her and cried like he was eight years old again.

Lisa saved her own tears until later that night, when she was alone in her bed. Then she sobbed into her pillow, for once letting herself cry without restraint. Her heart ached.

_I miss him too_.


	10. Chapter 10

Chapter 10

"You're not going to school today," Lisa said to Ben as he stumbled down the stairs in the morning. She was standing in the hall with a cup of coffee in her hand, staring at the burned spot on the carpet.

Ben stared at her as he reached the last step. "What are we going to do? We can't just hide in here."

"I know." Lisa took an absent-minded sip from the mug, then set it down. "But I need to talk to Father Andrews, and I'm not ready to let you out of my sight, so you're coming with me."

Ben gave her a long look, then shrugged. "Okay," he said.

The streets were still fairly empty in the early morning light as Lisa drove downtown with Ben riding shotgun. As usual, the street in front of the priest's house was deserted, and Lisa parked the car and went inside without knocking.

She glanced around the hall. "Ben, wait down here for me," she said quietly. "I want to talk to him alone." Without waiting for a reply, she ran up the stairs. "Father Andrews?" she called. "Are you here?"

"In my office." His voice was mildly surprised, and he looked up from a huge book on the desk as Lisa came in. "What's wrong?" He wore glasses for the fine print, but he took them off and laid them aside when he saw her face.

"My best friend came to my house last night," Lisa said. "She was possessed."

The priest's eyebrows rose. "What happened? Where's your son?"

"Oh, Ben's downstairs. He's fine." Lisa did not sit down; she stood just inside the doorway, her voice tight and angry. "We exorcised her."

"Did she live?" He was annoyingly calm, as if possession was an everyday occurrence for him. Then again, Lisa reflected, it probably was.

"Yes, she lived. She probably won't ever speak to me again, but she's alive."

He smiled then, leaning his chair back. "I'm impressed. You must really have some natural skill as a hunter."

"Don't say that," Lisa told him sharply. "I'm not here for praise. I want to know what you know about Crowley."

Father Andrews' hand tightened on the arm of his chair for a second. "You were kidnapped under orders from Crowley," he said. "But that was years ago. With the things that have happened since then, I really wasn't sure whether he was still the King of Hell."

"Well, apparently he is," Lisa snapped. She took a step closer. "The demon that was in Kim—it's been watching me for years, ever since the accident. Under _his_ orders."

"Really?" Father Andrews pondered this information for a moment. "I guess I shouldn't be surprised," he said finally, steepling his fingers together. "Crowley's not one to give up advantages, at least from what I've heard. You're a pawn to him, in whatever game he happens to be playing."

"I don't want to be a pawn," Lisa said furiously, her hands clenched at her sides. "I don't want my son to be a pawn. I've been watched all this time, always in danger, and I never knew. I thought we were safe…" she took a deep breath, trying to keep her voice from breaking, but it spite of herself it began to shake. "We've never been safe. Not since I met Dean."

"There's no changing that now." Father Andrews got up, came around the desk, and laid his hand on her shoulder. "Listen to me. Do you think you're the only one who's ever been a pawn for Hell? There's hundreds, _thousands_, maybe, of people out there with a demon on their shoulder. They don't know it, and they live their lives comfortably, never seeing the danger until it rips their lives apart. Lisa, you and your son see the danger. That—in this world—can be a great advantage."

"My son will never be safe," Lisa said. She stared at Father Andrews. "He can never have a normal life, and it's my fault."

"You've got to stop blaming yourself." The priest shook her slightly. "It's not good for you or for him."

He was right. Lisa swallowed hard, and her jaw stiffened. "Let me guess. Crowley's going to send another demon to take the place of the one I just sent to Hell."

"Probably. Did the demon threaten you?"

"No, actually." Lisa thought back to last night's events. "Apparently it was just…watching. It had been possessing a guy in my yoga class: that lawyer who stabbed himself to death. It was on the news. And then I guess it possessed Kim, and when she touched my iron railing, I saw those black eyes." She shivered. "But no, I don't think it was there to hurt us. At least not then."

"That's good. If Crowley had wanted to hurt you, he could have done it at any time. Of course, now that you've exposed his surveillance, his plans could change. I don't want to scare you, but you have to know what to expect."

"So that's it? He'll just keep on sending demons, either to watch us or hurt us?" Lisa's eyes flashed. She was afraid, but she was also angry: ice and fire alternated in her blood. "No. I'm not going to accept that. I'm not going to let that happen to Ben."

"What are you going to do?" He asked the question quietly and simply.

Lisa shook her head grimly. "I'm going to do something that I promised myself I would never do. I'm going to find Dean."

There. She had said it, and now that the words had been spoken, she realized how inevitable it had been. She'd known since last night, really: since she'd realized that Crowley was watching their every move, able at any moment to hurt her friends and family or wipe her and Ben off the face of the earth.

"There's only two people I know who have fought Hell and won," she said aloud, and she met Father Andrews' eyes. "Where else can I go for help?"

Understanding and sympathy glimmered in the priest's eyes, but he sighed heavily and ran a hand through his hair. "You realize that they may be dead? You haven't had contact with them in years."

"Maybe," Lisa said. "But if they're still alive, I'm going to find them. Will you help me?"

He half-smiled. "I have some contacts—hunters, mediums, psychics. I'll put out the word, and we'll see what we come up with. It may take a while. In the meantime, I suggest that you and Ben quietly drop off the radar, so to speak, and take a little vacation with some friends of mine. I'll give you some wards against demons that may keep the hounds at bay temporarily."

Lisa rubbed one hand across her face, her shoulders slumping. "It's so hard to accept, you know. Losing everything you thought you had. I don't know how I'm going to tell Ben. I mean, he's got friends, he's got school…"

"Oh, he's been standing behind you for the last fifteen minutes," Father Andrew said cheerfully, and Lisa turned around.

"It's okay, Mom." Ben smiled at her; his shoulders were very straight, and he looked so tall. He reached out and patted her arm. "I could use a vacation."

"Oh, you're going to keep up with your schoolwork, believe me." Lisa narrowed her eyes. "Don't be getting any ideas."

"I'm going to make some calls." Father Andrews lifted the phone. "Why don't you go home, pack whatever's important to you, and come back as soon as you've finished?"

"All right." Ben went to the stairs. "Come on, Mom," he called, and Lisa heard his feet rattling down the steps.

She turned uncertainly in the doorway. "Am I doing the right thing?" she said in a low voice. "I just…I just want to be sure."

The priest, already holding the phone to his ear, met her eyes across the desk. "You can't be _sure_. Sometimes all you can do is pick one option out of a lot of really bad options."

"Well, that's comforting." Lisa shook her head with a rueful smile. "See you this afternoon."

"Good. Be careful." He waved to her as she went out. "Nicholas?" she heard him say. "Listen, I've got a couple of questions..."

At home, Ben ran up to his room to pack. "Take a lot of clothes," Lisa called after him. "We may not be coming back for a while."

_Or ever._

That thought nagged at her, but she pushed it out of her mind. She went to her bedroom and pulled out a suitcase, automatically packing the things she might need.

In the back of one of her dresser drawers her hand brushed against something silky, and she pulled it out. It was a sheer black negligee, with delicate lace along the shoulder straps and a tiny pink rosebud tucked into the bodice.

Dean had given it to her. She blinked, remembering. She hadn't even seen this thing in years, but the memories came back: the teasing but gentle smile on his face, the light in his eyes as he lay on her bed and watched her move across the room.

He had always been in so much pain, with the weight of the world on his shoulders. She would have done anything he wanted, worn anything he liked, to see that pain lift for a second. She wondered how he was now, whether he still carried that burden, whether his eyes were still haunted by the things he had seen and done.

Her suitcase lay open on the bed; she tucked the negligee into a corner of it.


	11. Chapter 11

Chapter 11

Vanessa and Aaron Russell showed up at Father Andrews' place that evening after Lisa and Ben had returned. Lisa saw them as they came through the door: a middle-aged couple with abundant gray hairs and more than a few wrinkles, but with very pleasant and comfortable smiles. They were so _not_ what Lisa had previously experienced as far as hunters went.

"So you're Lisa," Vanessa said, coming forward and squeezing the younger woman in a grandmotherly hug before she could resist. "Father Andrews told us all about you. And this must be Ben." She shook his hand, mindful of the teenage-boy resistance to hugs.

Aaron was quieter than his wife, but his grip was firm when he shook Lisa's hand. He turned almost immediately to Father Andrews, and the two men went up the stairs, talking to each other.

Lisa blinked. In spite of the warmth and the friendliness, she had felt Vanessa's powerful upper-body strength in that hug, and she noticed the limber way that the couple moved. Beneath that comforting surface, there were hunters hidden after all.

After an hour or two of talking and sorting things out, a consensus was reached: Lisa and Ben would go with Vanessa and Aaron to their farm, far out in the northwest corner of Missouri near Chillicothe, and stay there temporarily until Father Andrews could track down the Winchesters.

"So you know Dean," Vanessa said in a low tone as she and Lisa stood in the hallway while Ben and Aaron packed the suitcases into the Russells' van. They had decided to leave Lisa's car in St. Louis: Father Andrews would take care of it.

"Yes." Lisa stood with her arms folded, her eyes worried and tired, watching her son. "That's kind of what got us into this mess."

Vanessa reached out and squeezed her arm. "It's funny, the way things work out," she said gently. "If Aaron and I hadn't lost our daughter when she was four months old, we probably never would have been hunters. I still miss her and blame myself every day, but we've done a lot of good in the world because of her. You still have your son, Lisa."

Lisa dropped her arms to her sides. "You're right," she said quietly. "I'm sorry about your daughter."

Ben and Aaron were talking outside, and it warmed Lisa's heart to see her son responding positively to the man. They seemed already to understand each other.

"We've never met the Winchester boys," Vanessa said. "Aaron knew John, way back in the day. There were stories about the boys afterwards…not all good, you understand, Lisa. Word gets around. That's why we're going to have trouble finding them."

Lisa nodded. "Father Andrews hinted at that earlier," she said. "But I know Dean. He's…" she paused. What could she say? A good man? A flawed man? He'd betrayed her by whitewashing her memories. He'd been so broken. "I still believe in him," she said finally.

"I know." Vanessa's smile was deep and reassuring. "That's why we're helping you."

The farm near Chillicothe was an oasis of peace for Lisa and Ben. Neither of them had realized how much they needed that. The knife-edge of a hunter's life was still there: Aaron spent the evenings teaching Lisa and Ben self-defense and fighting skills, and he and his wife disappeared on hunting trips at least once a week, but it was as if nothing evil could come near that beautiful land where the creeks ran brightly through fields covered with snow.

It was winter now without doubt—weeks had passed, and Father Andrews' search for the Winchesters seemed frustrated at every turn. "It's hard to find anybody who knows them," he told Lisa over the phone. "Everybody who used to know them is dead."

Even Aaron, who had reached out through his own contacts, came up empty. The Winchesters had vanished, although there was always just a hint or a rumor to keep the search going: a name (Kevin Tran?) or a place (Oregon?).

Bobby was dead. They had established that very early on, and Lisa had winced when she heard the news. Poor Dean. Bobby was his father, really: she remembered the interaction between the two men, and the affection in the gruff old hunter's eyes. It must have torn Sam and Dean up, both of them; dear God, did they need more pain in their lives?

Vanessa had been right when she said they would have trouble finding the Winchesters. Lisa knew that more than once, a phone call to a hunter would end abruptly as soon as Father Andrews or Aaron asked about the Winchesters. It seemed to be a dangerous subject.

"We'll find them," Vanessa said brightly to Lisa one day. They were in the kitchen, making yeast rolls; Vanessa was trying her best to teach Lisa the finer points of baking. They were both up to their elbows in flour.

"What if they're dead?" Lisa asked. That thought had been occurring to her with more and more intensity over the past weeks.

"They're not." Vanessa kneaded her dough expertly.

"They could be." Lisa blew a strand of hair away from her face. "We've been looking for a while now, and…nothing. If they're gone, Ben and I have to move on. You've been so kind to us, but we can't impose on you forever."

"You're not imposing." Vanessa's voice was brisk. "You don't know how wonderful it's been, having young people around the house. And the help with the cattle and the farm work alone has been such a relief for me and Aaron."

Lisa glanced out the window. Her son was in the barn, she knew, helping to feed the cows. "I feel so safe here," she said, and was surprised to find tears welling up in her eyes. "I haven't had to worry about Ben."

"We've got this place warded better than any other safe house we know of," Vanessa said, plopping rolls onto a pan. "Don't think that you're a burden to us, Lisa. You're not the first person to stay here, and you won't be the last. This is what we do. Here, you need to add some flour to that dough. It's getting all sticky."

An hour or so later, Aaron and Ben came in for dinner. They were all sitting down in the softly-lit kitchen when the phone rang. Aaron's eyes met Vanessa's in their usual silent communication, and then he went out to answer it in the living room.

"Did you get that fence fixed today, Ben?" Vanessa asked, serving him a heaping plate of roast beef and mashed potatoes.

"Yes, ma'am." Ben dug in to his food. His cheeks were still red from the cold. "We got that fixed this morning, and then we repaired the chicken coop and brought some hay bales down from the shed in the upper field."

"That's good." Vanessa smiled, although her eyes strayed towards the living room where Aaron was still on the phone.

"Ben," Lisa said, "we're going to have to go over some of your schoolwork tonight. We've been slacking off a little bit, and you need to keep up."

Ben grimaced good-naturedly. "Okay, Mom." He shoveled his mashed potatoes into his mouth, and Lisa smiled. It was all so pleasant, so calm…but still, Aaron was taking a while on the phone.

He came back in after a few more minutes, and when he saw Lisa's hopeful eyes he shook his head. "Nothing on the Winchesters," he said. "It's a job." He turned to his wife.

"Will it keep until you eat your dinner?" Vanessa gestured at him to sit, and he pulled out his chair and eyed the roast beef with appreciation.

"It's in Kansas," he said, eating quickly. "Near Lebanon. Sounds like a haunting, Van."

"You want to go tonight or tomorrow morning?" his wife asked.

"Tonight, if possible." He glanced at the clock. "Someone died."

Vanessa nodded, her face growing serious. She glanced at Lisa and Ben. "You'll take care of everything for us here?"

"Of course we will."

The Russells moved quickly: inside of thirty minutes they were packed and ready to go. Lisa and Ben came out to the front porch to see them off. The rear lights of the van glowed in the darkness like red, angry eyes, and Lisa shivered.

"Come on, Ben," she said, putting her arm around her son. "Let's go start your schoolwork before we have to check on the cows."

The next morning was clear and sunny; the snow melted and dripped from the roof of the house, and Lisa and Ben's boots were caked with mud by the time they finished the barn work and came back to the house. Lisa was sipping on a cup of coffee, thinking about starting lunch, when the phone rang.

She had never heard Vanessa's voice like that before; it chilled her to the bone. "Lisa?"

"What's wrong?" She set down her coffee.

"It's Aaron." Vanessa's voice caught, just a little, but she swallowed and went on. "He's hurt bad. He's in surgery now. It was the job—it was worse than we thought."

"Oh, Vanessa." Lisa took a deep breath. "What do you want me to do?"

"Nothing." The woman was near tears, but bravely holding them back. "Just—just take care of the farm for us. I've got to go finish the job, as soon as Aaron makes it out of surgery."

"Are you crazy?" Lisa asked, her voice rising slightly. "You're not going to go back alone."

"There's people dying out here," Vanessa said, regaining control of her voice. "Aaron and I have talked about this. We promised each other never to leave a job unfinished, no matter what happens. It wasn't a haunting, it was a demon. We were careless going in, but I can fix it. I can take care of that she-devil."

"No. It could kill you," Lisa protested.

"That's one of the risks of the job," Vanessa said. She managed a small chuckle. "Listen, Lisa. If Aaron pulls through, he's going to be out of it for a while. I told the hospital that you were my daughter, so in case you don't hear from me, you drive out here and bring him home, all right? I'm going to go back out and fry that demon."

"Vanessa…" Lisa began, but the phone clicked off. She shook it impatiently, then hung it up. Her mind was working fast; she'd noticed that before, that clear, rapid chain of thought when something went terribly wrong.

"Ben!" she called.

"What is it, Mom?" His eyes were large and serious; he heard the urgency in her voice.

"The Russells are in trouble. I'm going out to Lawrence right now." She was already hurrying to the living room, to the safe where the hunters kept a huge amount of demon-fighting weapons. "I can't let Vanessa do this by herself."

"I'm coming with you, Mom."

"No, Ben. I mean it." Lisa turned with a bottle of holy water in her hand. "This is too dangerous."

"I can't let you go out there by yourself!" Ben protested. "The last thing Dean said to me, he told me to take care of you. I have to go with you."

Lisa shook her head. "I'll be fine, Ben. If you come with me, I'll be worried about you, and I can't have anything else on my mind out there. I need you—we all need you—to stay here and take care of the farm. You understand that, right?"

She met his eyes, and he must have seen the absolute determination in them. "Are you sure?" he asked, and she knew she had won. At least this time.

"I'm sure, Ben. Listen, I'll call you as soon as I get there." She kissed his forehead.

The only vehicle left on the property was the old farm truck, a stick shift from about 1985. It rumbled to life and Lisa threw it in gear, waving her hand to her son as she drove out of the gate.

On the long straight highway to Lebanon, she kept her foot to the floor. Vanessa and Aaron had done so much for them, she thought. There was no way she was going to let them die out there at the hands of a demon.

She drove with a bottle of holy water and an iron knife in the glove compartment, the toolbox in the back filled with salt, silver bullets, guns and chains. She drove to save the life of a friend, praying she wasn't too late. Was this, she wondered as she drove, was _this _what it felt like to be a hunter?


	12. Chapter 12

Chapter 12

Sam Winchester set a cup of coffee from the Gas-N-Sip next to his laptop in the main room of the bunker and listened. He heard nothing; Dean must still be asleep this morning, but he wanted to be sure. Quietly he walked through the hall to Dean's room and peeked around the half-opened door.

He was sleeping, wrapped in his blanket, mouth half open. Was that a bit of drool on his pillow? Sam smiled, leaning his head against the doorframe for a moment. It was so good to have his brother back. It had only been a week since the demon cure had done its work, and he was still worried, but just seeing Dean sleeping like a human was enough to flood his body with relief.

Let him sleep. He needed rest. Sam went back to his coffee and his laptop. He'd gotten pretty good at managing with one hand, while his gimp arm still hung in a sling. From force of habit, he logged on to his usual news sites, looking for strange stories. Not that he had any intention of hunting right now—his whole focus was on taking care of Dean.

"Sam."

He barely jumped, just glanced over his shoulder. "Oh, hey, Cas."

Castiel had been in and out that week, anxious about Dean, but also preoccupied with whatever angel business was going on. Sam didn't give a crap about what was going on with the angels, so he didn't ask.

"How is Dean?" Castiel glanced toward the hallway.

"Sleeping." Sam took a long swallow of coffee and allowed himself a smile. It felt unfamiliar, almost wrong, to be smiling. There hadn't been much to be happy about for a long time.

"There's something going on in Lebanon." Castiel came over to the table.

"What do you mean, going on?"

"A very old couple died three days ago at a farm two miles from here."

Sam glanced up, automatically clicking over to the Lebanon news site. "Died how? You know, Cas, humans get old. They die."

"They had been married for seventy years," Castiel replied. "They were stabbed to death with kitchen knives. I hear the carnage was…immense."

Sam squinted up at him, then turned back to his laptop. "Here it is." He read quickly, his eyebrows lifted. "They're searching for the son. Apparently he lived with them, but he's nowhere to be found. What do you think, Cas? Demons, or some kind of ghost possession?"

"It is probably a demon," Castiel said. "I think it is most likely one of Abaddon's. A killing this close to Dean can only be a message. They still want him dead, Sam."

"I'll go take care of it." Sam closed his laptop and stood up.

"I should go with you."

"No, Castiel. I don't want you to waste that angel juice you're running on." Sam didn't say, "We need it in case Dean goes full demon again," but they both knew what he was thinking. "Stay here and keep an eye on him, will you? I'll go out, scout around, see what's up."

"That is a good plan." Castiel sat down at the table, looking a little forlorn for an angel. But that was Castiel all over. "Where should I tell Dean that you've gone?"

"Food run," Sam said promptly. "Tell him I'm bringing burgers. And pie. Don't say a word about demons." He was out the door, grabbing a duffel bag of gear as he went.

Damn it, he thought to himself as he drove along a dirt road towards the farm. When I find this son of a bitch, I'm going to rip his head off. The last thing I need is demons following us to the bunker.

He was angry, but cautious as he parked his car and approached the yellow crime-scene tape that rippled in the breeze around the old farmhouse. It appeared completely deserted; the investigators were long since finished with their work, and the house sat there, most likely to be torn down in the near future.

Sam had a blade in his hand as he approached the house, ducking under the crime scene tape and walking softly through the front door.

He moved through the hallway and stopped at the entrance to the kitchen. Sulfur and blood. The place absolutely reeked. Blood was splashed halfway up the walls, on the windows, even on the ceiling fan—blood, dried black and crusty.

So, a demon for sure. Sam bent and brushed up the yellow dust from the corner of the doorway as he stood there thinking. The son had been possessed, but there was no guarantee that he still was. The demon could have moved on to someone else.

Or maybe not. Sam's reflexes kicked into action before his brain, and he jumped to the side as something rustled in the dark living room and someone charged at him. He slashed with the blade, and was rewarded with a growl of pain.

Even without demonic possession, the muscular man would have been a formidable opponent for most people. Sam grappled with him and was flung back across the room. _"Exorcizamus te," _he began, more as a distraction to the demon than anything else, _"Omnis immundus…"_

The demon wavered for a second, and Sam seized the chance and knocked him to the floor, shiny blade pressing against his throat, staring into the coal-black eyes. "Are you one of Abaddon's men?" he snapped.

"Of course I am," the demon snarled back. "All hail the Queen! You're going to die, you scum—you and your precious brother. Have you cured him yet? It will be a whole lot easier to shred his guts if he's human."

The demon must have sensed a moment of weakness, because suddenly Sam felt himself flung across the room again, the blade twisted from his hand and sent flying towards the kitchen door. His head cracked against a counter, and through a haze he saw the black eyes leering at him, close to his face.

"I'm going to rip your heart out and leave it on the doorstep of your bunker, Sam, right where Dean can find it. I've got you, and it's only a matter of time until I get him, too. It's the end of the road for you Winchesters— ."

That glowing light of a disappearing spirit, that shocked look as a demon died: Sam had seen it many times before. Someone had stabbed the demon in the back, and its crumpled meatsuit fell to the floor.

He must have hit his head harder than he thought, because he thought he recognized the woman standing in front of him, the bloody blade in her hand, dark hair falling around her shoulders and her eyes wide and shocked as she looked first at the body and then at him. It wasn't possible.

"Lisa?" he said, unbelieving.

There was another woman in the room, holding a bottle of holy water and staring at them both. "Lisa, sweetie, are you all right?" she asked. "Who is this?"

"It's Sam Winchester." Lisa's hands were shaking, and she looked down at the body again. "I killed him," she said helplessly.

"You saved my life." Sam kept staring at her. It had been so long since he'd felt shock and remorse for killing a possessed human, but he remembered it in a flash of pain as he watched her. "What are you doing here, Lisa?"

She blinked; she seemed as surprised and confused as he did. Her eyes searched his face, and her voice shook slightly, like her fingers on the handle of the blade. "Sam, where's Dean?"


	13. Chapter 13

Chapter 13

Lisa had caught up with Vanessa at the hospital, coming out of the ICU. She was shocked by the older woman's face: it was bruised, scratched, battered, and she had a black eye.

"Vanessa!" she said, hurrying to her.

"Oh, Lisa." Vanessa held out her arms and Lisa wrapped her in a hug. For a moment the older woman leaned her head on Lisa's shoulder, and she might have sobbed once, but quickly she got hold of herself. "You shouldn't have come, dear."

"I'm not going to let you go after something like that alone." Lisa kept her voice down, but the nurses were all busy, passing meds and entering their endless notes in the computer. She looked over Vanessa's shoulder at the grim sliding doors to where the sickest of the sick lay in their cubicles. "How is he?"

"Still not awake." Vanessa had regained full control of her voice, and she seemed to be gaining strength from having somebody with her. Lisa noticed that. "The son of a bitch threw him across the room. I thought we were both going to die right then."

"You're pretty beaten up," Lisa said gently as they walked down the hall. "Maybe you should wait before you go looking for the demon. Besides, it's probably moved on to another body by now. It could be impossible to find."

Vanessa shook her head. "I'm pretty sure that demon was here for a reason. Out on a farm in Lebanon, Kansas, killing old people with barely any time left to live in the first place? This was a big-shot demon, judging by its power, and there's got to be a reason for what happened. There's something going on out there. We need to go back to the farm."

That "we" had slipped in there unconsciously, but Lisa realized that for what it was worth, Vanessa had accepted her presence quickly. They were a team now, and Lisa was far more worried about her friend than she was about herself as they drove out to the farmhouse where Vanessa and Aaron had barely escaped with their lives.

There was a car parked out front, by the front gate. Vanessa pulled up and stared at it, frowning, glancing at the crime scene tape and the front door, swinging ajar. "I don't know who this is," she said slowly.

Lisa shifted in the passenger seat, also staring at the house. "Maybe we should wait," she suggested.

"No. Something's not right; there shouldn't be anybody in there. It's not an official car. We're going in. If we get questioned, we're just friends from out of state, okay? We heard the news and came to see if we could help with anything."

"All right." Lisa accepted the bottle of holy water that Vanessa pressed into her hand. She slipped it into her pocket, along with an iron blade. The Russells used old-fashioned tools of the trade: holy water, iron, exorcisms as soon as they had the demon wounded or trapped enough for them to say the words.

There were blades out there that could kill demons, and angels too, they had told her. Angel blades that could kill almost anything. It was Aaron's dream to own one, but they were hard to find, and the hunters that had them weren't giving them up.

It would be nice to have something a little more effective, Lisa thought as she and Vanessa walked up the path. She felt odd: she knew she should be afraid, but she wasn't. All she wanted right now was to keep Vanessa safe and send a demon back to hell. Anger. It was a great motivator. These sons of bitches had ruined her life; well, she'd do her best to ruin theirs.

Vanessa eased the door open and slipped into the dark hall, Lisa following. There was somebody in the kitchen; they could see his dark shadow outlined against the light from the windows as he bent, rubbed his fingers along the sill of the door, and sniffed them once.

"It's another hunter," Vanessa said warily, and took a step forward. Almost instantly she was knocked sprawling into the wall as a huge man rushed out of the living room to their right and leaped into the kitchen.

"Vanessa!" Lisa cried out, reaching for her friend.

Vanessa had gone white with pain. "Go!" She might have meant, "Run! Save yourself!" but Lisa heard it differently. She ran towards the kitchen.

The demon was raging, flinging the hunter across the room, and Lisa was standing in the kitchen doorway when a long blade landed at her feet.

She picked it up, and everything seemed to be moving in very slow motion. The blade was like nothing she had ever seen before, and she guessed it had to be one of those blades she'd been told about. It could kill a demon. For a moment (in these long, slow-moving seconds) she hesitated. It would kill the man, too.

But she saw that the demon was about to deliver a deathstroke, and she ran forward and stabbed it through the back with all the force in her strong right arm.

The next few minutes were a blur, when she thought back on them later: horror at what she had done, shock, and then amazement when she found herself looking into Sam Winchester's face. She remembered clearly what she had said, though, looking up at him.

"Where's Dean?"

Sam appeared more shocked than she was, if possible. Both of them stared at each other for a minutes, gauging reactions.

"Sam," Lisa said, slowly, "I need to see Dean."

"He's been…having trouble," Sam said, floundering. "I'm not sure it's the best thing for you to see him right now."

Lisa's throat tightened. "What's wrong with him?"

Sam sighed. "Look, Lisa, it's a really long story."

Lisa had had enough. She reached out and caught him by the arm like a mother grabbing her six-year-old. "Well," she said, her voice icy, "I've got plenty of time. You know something, Sam? I just got my memories back, and it seems to me that whatever else has gone on in the meantime, Dean still owes me an explanation. So tell me where he is."

She was too angry and rattled to notice how bad Sam looked; his face pale and haggard, his tall frame thinner than it used to be. But she did notice the pain in his eyes when he looked at her again.

"I'm sorry about that, Lisa," he said quietly. "About what he did. Believe me, I know what it's like when somebody messes with your mind."

"Yeah, well, Sam, I'm not blaming you. All I want is for you to tell me where Dean is. Believe me, if you don't, I'll find out anyway."

Sam ran a hand over his face and sighed, glancing over Lisa's shoulder at Vanessa, still standing there with her bottle of holy water, watching them. "Who's your friend?" he said.

"I'm Vanessa Russell." Vanessa didn't move. She caught Lisa's eye. "Lisa, I'm going back to the hospital to sit with Aaron. You don't need me along for this trip."

"Are you sure?" Lisa turned to her. "Are you okay to drive?"

"Of course I'm okay to drive. I can only assume" –she was talking to Sam now— "that you've been searching for this demon at least as long as I have. Why was it here?"

Sam grimaced. "It was looking for us, actually."

"You know, I've heard about you Winchesters." Vanessa straightened her back, stuffing the bottle of holy water into her pocket. "Death doesn't just follow you: it rides on your shoulders. Have a good day."

She walked out, and they heard her car start out front. Sam stared after her.

"Her husband's in the ICU," Lisa said.

He nodded. "This is a bad idea," he told her. "You don't know everything that's happened."

"No, Sam. The bad idea was Dean having my memories erased. Let's go."


	14. Chapter 14

Chapter 14

Lisa and Sam didn't talk as he drove over the country roads. His face was grim, and he kept chewing his lip. Lisa imagined that she probably didn't look much better.

It was a surprisingly short drive; he pulled up in what looked like the middle of nowhere. For a second Lisa had the paranoid thought that he had driven her out here to kill her. Sam had always struck her as somebody who was capable of anything, given the right motivation.

"This is the bunker," Sam said.

"The bunker?"

"It's been here for a long time. The Men of Letters—oh, hell, forget the explanation." He shut off the ignition and looked at her. "I think I should go in first, tell Dean…"

"Sam." Lisa spoke very gently now; she had had time to cool off, and she realized now how much strain the man was under. She reached over and patted his arm. "Listen. This is between me and Dean. This is something we need to sort out ourselves. Whatever has happened in the meantime, he still owes me that. Unless…unless there's a woman in there and you're trying to hide it from me for some ridiculous reason."

"No. No woman." Sam managed a hollow laugh. "Oh, God, Lisa. It's Dean. I just got him back to being human." He rested his forehead on the steering wheel.

"You _what_?" Lisa's throat went dry.

Sam didn't move for a few seconds. Then he sat up and looked at her. "How about I just tell you the whole story?"

He seemed relieved to have somebody to listen to him, somebody to give him their full attention while he poured out the story of the past few years. Even for Lisa, who had been with Dean after Sam took down Lucifer and prevented the Apocalypse (one of them, anyway) the story was hard to believe. Her mouth dropped open slightly as she listened, and when Sam got to the part where Dean died by an angel's hand, tears filled her eyes. Sam didn't notice; the story poured out of him like a flood, and he couldn't stop.

He told her about the Mark of Cain and what had happened in the past few weeks, how he had managed to bring him back and cure him. "I'm worried, though," he finished up. "He still has the Mark, and I don't know what's going to happen now. That's why I'm worried about taking you in there, Lisa."

Lisa sat there in the passenger's seat, looking out across the fields, the scrubby landscape. It was so much to take in. She didn't know how she felt about it, about the whole story, but she was determined. "If something's going to happen, it will happen whether or not he sees me, Sam," she said. "Face it. You know Dean as well as—better than I do. You can't shield him from anything."

"You're right." A tight smile appeared on Sam's face for a second. "Shall we go in?"

"Dean?" Sam called as he and Lisa walked down the steps into the main room of the bunker. "Dean, we've got a visitor!"

Silence. Sam cocked his head, listening, and then his eyes brightened. "I think I hear him in the garage," he said.

"The _garage_?" Lisa had never seen anything like this place. It was like the Batcave. She had visions of butlers and men in suits, reading books at the polished table, discussing theories over glasses of port and sherry.

She followed Sam down a hall, standing back a little as he pushed open a door.

"Dean?"

"Sammy! What did I do to Baby?" It was his voice, and it had not changed. Lisa's heart stopped for a second, then began beating very fast. She peeked in, catching a glimpse of dark hair and a gray t-shirt.

"You trashed her," Sam said, with a flicker of amusement in his voice. "You said she was just a car."

"_I_ said that?" Dean sounded genuinely horrified. "Baby, Baby, I'm so sorry. Look at her, Sam. Her interior reeks of whiskey."

"Well, it always smelled like that a little bit," Sam said.

"Shut up. Here, Baby, I'm going to make it all better. I'll get you some polish for the dashboard and give you a full wax. You'll like that, won't you?"

"Dean."

"What?"

"We've got a visitor."

The noises stopped. Lisa kept in the background.

"Who?"

"Well, uh, she kind of wants to tell you herself."

"Sam, I don't have time for this. You've restored my humanity—you don't need to bring me women to try and prove it."

Sam turned red and glanced at Lisa. She smiled at him, ducked under his arm and walked into the garage.

Dean was reaching inside the driver's side door for something, and he did not look up immediately. Lisa's heart was pounding so hard that she thought she might faint, but at the same time she was fully aware of every second that went by. That dark hair—the way those shoulders moved in that gray t-shirt—Dean, Dean, Dean. I've missed you. I don't care what's happened, I don't care what you did…I can kick your ass later, after I've kissed you…

He was staring at her, and all the color had drained out of his face.

"Lisa?"

His voice didn't seem to be working properly. He straightened up, his hand on the door.

She found that her own feet were frozen to the floor, and she couldn't speak.

"Oh, God, Lisa." Dean's head dropped for a second. "What—what are you—how'd you find…"

"I remembered, Dean." Why was it so hard to form the words?

He looked at her, and his eyes were honest and clear, the way she remembered them. "I'm sorry, Lisa. I'm so sorry. Out of all the crap I've done, and believe me it's a lot of crap, what I did to you is the thing I regret most."

"You shouldn't have done it," she said softly.

"I know." His face was still white. "All I wanted was to keep you and Ben safe." His eyes lit suddenly with concern. "Is Ben all right?"

"Yes, he's fine. Well, not fine, but he's doing great considering the circumstances. He remembers too."

She hated seeing Dean so stricken. Sam was right; he'd been through so much. She couldn't hold onto her anger, looking at him.

"Dean."

He looked at her, helplessly, his eyes dark with pain. She remembered that pain, the weight of the world that never left him.

She walked straight up to him. He stood there, expecting—what? A slap, a punch to the gut? The guy had spent his life being punched in the gut, literally and metaphorically.

She put her hands on either side of his face and kissed him on the mouth.

Suddenly his arms were around her, those arms that she thought she might never feel again. They clung to each other, standing by the Impala.

"Lisa. Lisa." His whole body was shaking, and he gripped her hard against his chest, his face buried in her hair. "You don't know what I've done…"

"Sam told me." Lisa lifted her head so she could see his eyes. "It's all right, Dean. You understand? I love you. I never stopped loving you. It doesn't matter what's happened or what you've done, that's not going to change."

His lips shook a little. "I'm dangerous," he said quietly. "I was a demon. Do you understand that? I could still turn. I could hurt you. I can't take that risk with you, Lisa. I just can't. You've got to stay away from me."

She smiled, sliding her hands up to his shoulders. "I think we've learned that you can't make my decisions for me, Dean. Right now I'm here, and I'm not going anywhere until we sort things out."

He stared at her, and she stared back with a defiance and confidence that was new to her, but growing stronger all the time. Finally she saw acceptance dawning in his eyes, and she knew she had won.

"Sammy?" Dean called, not lifting his eyes from Lisa's face.

"Yeah?"

"Get out."

The door closed behind him.

That kiss was long and sweet and deep: five years of hunger satisfied for both of them. One of Dean's hands slid down to Lisa's waist, against her bare skin under her shirt, and she let it stay there as she leaned in.

There were things they'd have to deal with, problems they'd have to face. But not now.


	15. Chapter 15

Chapter 15

Lisa and Dean kissed each other again and again, standing there in the garage next to the Impala. They almost went at it in the back seat like teenagers, but something stopped them. It was too much, too soon. Lisa peeled Dean's hand off her low back and broke her lips away from his.

"Not now," she said quietly, and he nodded. They walked together out of the garage and back down the hall to the main room.

Sam was sitting at his computer. He looked up quickly, his eyes searching Dean's face. He seemed a little relieved. Poor guy, Lisa thought. What he's been through, as well as Dean…how were either of them still standing?

"Can I get you anything?" Dean asked, flustered.

"I'm not hungry, thanks." Lisa stood there, watching them both. "Will you show me around, Dean?" she asked suddenly.

"Uh, sure." He glanced sideways at Sam, who pretended to be extremely busy with his computer. "Come on."

He led her down the hall. "How'd you find us, anyway?" he asked.

"I was hunting," Lisa said simply. She kept her voice even, and slid her eyes sideways to watch his face, wondering how he'd take that. She still didn't want to think too much about the poor meatsuit she'd stabbed in the back.

"Damn it." Dean stopped with a groan. "You're in the life? How the hell did that happen, Lisa?"

She almost hated to tell him, after all he'd been through: hated to tell him that his plans to keep her safe had failed so spectacularly. "Crowley's demons have been watching me all these years." She kept walking, although she didn't know where they were going. "When I recovered my memories, everything just went downhill, my best friend got possessed, somebody else died. That's why I'm here—that's why I've been looking for you. I need to keep Ben safe, and right now I don't know how." Of course, that was only part of the reason that she'd been looking for him, she thought to herself.

"Crowley," Dean said, and his voice sent a shiver down Lisa's spine. "I'll rip that son of a bitch a new one as soon as I find him." He put his hand on Lisa's shoulder. "I'll fix it. I'll make sure he doesn't bother you again."

They rounded a corner. "Goodness, what happened to that door?" Lisa asked.

Dean coughed. "Little accident with a hammer. Sammy was supposed to fix that."

"Oh."

They wandered all over the building for a while, making small talk. It was more awkward than Lisa expected, but her nerves were still raw from that morning, and sympathy for Dean kept struggling with anger at him. She wanted to have it all out with him, but she didn't know how, didn't know where to start.

"I don't have cell service," she said, looking at her phone. "I need to call Vanessa and see how Aaron's doing. And I need to check on Ben."

"We can go out to the main room," Dean suggested. She nodded and they went back to where Sam was sitting at the table. There was another man there; trench-coated and vaguely familiar: she ought to know who he was, she thought.

"That's Castiel." Dean saw her doubtful glance. "The angel. The one, who…uh…"

He stopped, and Lisa glared at them both. "He helped you wipe my memories, right?"

"I am sorry about that," Castiel said. He didn't look anything like an angel, really; he looked worried, a little dirty, very human. "It was not Dean's intention to do you any harm."

"I think he can stand up for himself," Lisa said dryly. She shot a sideways glance at Dean. At the table, Castiel and Sam both looked uncomfortable. They could feel the tension rising in the big room, the heat between Lisa and Dean.

"It's all on me, Cas," Dean said. "I told you to do it."

"Yes, you did," Lisa said, turning on him suddenly. The anger that she thought had faded away flared up in her chest. "What was that all about, anyway? Just where do you get _off_, thinking you can just wipe somebody else's memories? You had no right to do that."

She licked her lips. Her hands were sweating a little, and starting to shake. It had been a hard day, after all, and she wasn't as much in control of herself as she thought.

"I know, Lisa, I know. I'm sorry." Dean took a step towards her. "I thought it was the best thing to do. I was wrong."

"It was a stupid thing to do." Lisa gripped the back of a chair, hoping it would stop her shaking fingers from becoming obvious. "I've been watched by demons the whole time—all these years. I never knew. Do you know how hard it was when my memories came back? How hard it was for _Ben_, when he remembered?"

Her voice was rising a little, and behind her, Sam shoved back his chair and stood up. "Lisa," he said, his voice carrying a slight warning. _Remember what I told you,_ the tone said.

Lisa looked over her shoulder. "Get out, Sam."

Sam only met her eyes for a second. "Dean, I guess this is your fight," he said. "Come on, Castiel." They retreated down the hall.

"Lisa, I told you I'm sorry." Dean took a step towards her.

"I know you're sorry. That doesn't make it right."

"What do you want?" he asked quietly.

Lisa laughed harshly. "I _want_ a normal life, Dean, but that's never going to happen, is it?"

Her hands were shaking worse now, and Dean reached out to her, to put a hand on her shoulder, or smooth her hair. She slapped him across the face, the violent gesture shocking even herself. She had never lifted a hand to anybody in her life.

"Lisa…" he said. He wasn't angry. "I deserved that. I deserve worse."

"Yes, you do." She was breathing hard, as if she'd run for miles. "It's not my life I care about, Dean. It's Ben's. I wanted him to go to college, get a good job, have a family. You think that's going to happen now? I see it in him already. He loves this life—_your _kind of life."

She put her hands over her face. "It's my fault," she said. "This would never have happened if it hadn't been for me."

"Don't blame yourself." Dean was standing very close to her; she could smell the engine grease on his shirt and the warm scent of his body. His voice caught in his throat. "Lisa, I don't think I can stand it if you start blaming yourself for this."

She looked up at him, and suddenly she was crying. It was a flood, like a burst dam, and when Dean hugged her to his chest, she didn't struggle. "I killed a man today," she said between sobs. "My friend's husband is in the hospital because of a demon. Is this what it's like, Dean? Is this what a hunter has to look forward to?"

"Pretty much, yeah." She felt Dean swallow hard. "Lisa, please don't cry. I love you so much, and I…I can't take it right now. Please."

He pulled her face upwards and kissed her lips.

"You still love me?" Lisa asked softly as he brushed the tears off her face.

"Yeah." There were tears in his eyes too. "I've thought about you every day since I left you in the hospital."

They kissed again, and then they couldn't stop. They barely noticed making their way down the hall to Dean's bedroom; he reached out and shoved the door shut behind them, kicking a copy of _Busty Asian Beauties_ under the bed at the same time.

Lisa's left hand ran down Dean's bare arm. Something like a welt or a scar pressed against her fingers, and she looked down. "Is that the Mark?" she whispered.

Dean nodded.

Lisa touched it gently with her fingertips: it gave her a feeling of darkness, of cold and pain, and she removed her hand with a shiver. "Does it hurt?"

"Not right now." He drew her hands to his chest. "We don't have to—if this—if you don't want to, that's okay. I understand."

She smiled then, a slow, long smile, and pulled him with her to the bed. She let go of her anger there, under the sheets with her lover, and gave him forgiveness and understanding, knowing how much he needed them.


	16. Chapter 16

Chapter 16

Dean was sleeping, one arm thrown back behind his head on the pillow. Lisa thought she would slip her clothes on quietly, but he woke up, completely alert, as soon as she moved.

"I need to call Ben and check on him," Lisa said.

They dressed quickly. Lisa looked around for a mirror, brushing back her hair. "Do I look awful?" she asked Dean. She was going to have to face Sam and Castiel, and of course they would know exactly what she and Dean had been doing. It was a little embarrassing, actually.

"You're fine," Dean said. He put his hands on her shoulders and kissed her forehead. "Don't worry about Sam," he said as if he could read her mind. "We give each other space when we need it. And Castiel's not exactly interested in this kind of thing."

They came out into the hall and walked back to the main room, which was empty. Lisa got on her phone.

Ben answered after the third ring. "Hello?"

"Ben, it's Mom. Is everything going ok?"

"Yeah. Did you catch up to the demon? Is Mr. Russell all right?"

"The demon's taken care of, but Aaron's still in the hospital. I'm going over to check on him in a little bit. I love you, Ben. I'll call you again as soon as I can."

"I love you, Mom. Be careful."

Lisa ended the call, chewing on her lower lip. Dean was leaning against a shelf on the other side of the room. He said nothing, but he looked at her.

Lisa met his eyes squarely and shook her head just a little. "I don't want to tell him over the phone," she said. "And not right now."

Dean nodded. "It's ok, Lisa. You don't have to explain yourself to me." He looked down. "I don't deserve to be in his life—in either of your lives."

"It's not a question of what you deserve," Lisa said. Her voice was very gentle, and she crossed the room and touched his arm. "It's a question of what's best for Ben. And right now I'm not sure exactly what that is."

That Mark. That red welt on his arm…she had felt its power when she touched it earlier. Dean was still her Dean, the man she loved, but there was a new, razor-sharp, dangerous edge to him that warned her of things to come. She sensed it more and more strongly the longer she was with him. Did Sam sense it too? she wondered.

Her phone rang in her hand.

"Vanessa?"

"Lisa!" Vanessa's voice was tense and very quiet. "I'm at the hospital. Something's wrong. Aaron's not…Aaron."

"You mean he's possessed?" Lisa was aware of Dean's body stiffening as he stood beside her.

"He might be. I'm not sure." Vanessa's voice was as tight as a stretched rubber band. "I need you here, Lisa."

"I'm coming. But wait, Vanessa. What about his tattoo? He has the pentagram, doesn't he?"

"It got screwed up in the surgery—they had to cut through it. The symbol is broken." Vanessa paused for a second. "I hear him calling me. I need to get back before he starts thinking something's wrong."

"I'll be right there," Lisa said, but the line was already dead. She jammed her phone in her pocket.

"Dean, we have to get to the hospital."

"All right." Dean was already moving towards the garage. "Sam!" he shouted. "Cas!"

"What's going on?" Sam appeared in the doorway.

"That hunter at the hospital may be possessed. We need to get there before he goes nuts and slaughters everyone in the place. Cas! Get your feathery ass in here!"

Castiel came in. "I can go there and kill the demon," he said.

"Can you do it without killing Aaron?" Lisa asked from the back seat of the Impala.

"Unfortunately, he will most likely not survive."

"Then we're going to find another way. Come on, let's go."

Cas slid into the back seat next to Lisa.

Sam gave Dean a long look as the engine roared to life and the Impala shot out of the garage. "I don't want you going in," he said. "I'll take care of this."

"Can it, Sam. I'm fine."

"No, you're not." Sam glanced over his shoulder at Castiel, who gave him a slight nod.

Dean saw the motion in the rearview mirror. "So Cas is going to babysit me, huh?" he said in irritation. "Have it your way, Sam."

They reached the hospital within fifteen minutes. Sam opened the trunk and lifted out a duffel bag. Lisa slipped out of the car.

"You don't need to go in," Sam said. "I can handle it."

"These are my friends, Sam. I'm going with you."

"Lisa!" Dean put his hand on the door handle. "Damn it, I'm not going to let you go in there."

Castiel reached out from the back seat and put a hand on Dean's shoulder. Dean's eyes closed and his head dropped back against the seat.

"He'll sleep for a little while," Castiel said, suddenly appearing on the sidewalk next to Sam and Lisa.

Lisa gave him a hard look. She might have forgiven Dean for wiping her memories, but she still hadn't forgiven the angel.

In the hall outside Aaron's room, Sam gestured to Lisa.

"Go in," he whispered. "We're right behind you."

Lisa tapped on the door and eased it open. The curtain was pulled around the bed. "Vanessa?" she asked, slipping into the room.

There was no answer. The door had closed behind her with an ominous click. Lisa put her head around the edge of the curtain.

"Well, hello there." Aaron's eyes were pure black. "So nice to see you, Lisa."

Vanessa sat in a chair by the window. She was unable to move, held in place by the power of the demon. Her eyes were wide and helpless as she looked at Lisa, and her mouth faintly shaped the words, "I'm sorry."

"What do you want with us?" Lisa kept her voice steady as she stood at the foot of the bed.

"Well, first off, I never turn down a nice juicy hunter. Do you know something?" The demon stretched out Aaron's muscular arm and looked at it admiringly, curling the strong fingers and cracking his knuckles. "I was just telling Vanessa here. Her husband never made it out of surgery. He's dead as a doornail. But what a great body, and the _memory_ this guy had! I've got enough names and addresses of hunters in this brain to keep a squad of demons busy killing for a year."

Vanessa made a low, painful sound. The demon ignored her. He was having more fun with Lisa. "You killed my partner out there on the farm, didn't you?" he said. "Not that there's a lot of love lost between us, but the _disrespect_ is what gets me. You're not even a real hunter. Just some paramour of Dean Winchester's. You've got no _right_ to kill the servants of Abaddon. The insolence of you!"

The door to the room had eased open. Lisa kept herself from looking at it. Her heart was beating heavily. Poor Vanessa, she was thinking. She glanced over at the older woman, still frozen in place, her lips white from struggling against her invisible bonds.

Aaron was already gone. She could give Sam the signal, or Castiel, and they'd obliterate the demon. But she didn't want Vanessa to see her husband stabbed. "Exorcizamus te," she said, hoping Sam would catch her cue, "Omnis immundus spiritus…"

"Don't you even think about it," the demon snapped, rising off the bed and grabbing her, twisting her head back until she thought her neck would snap.

"Omnis satanica potestas," Sam said, pushing back the curtain, "omnis uncursio infernalis adversarii."

Castiel flung out his hand, and the demon landed on his back on the bed while Sam went through the rest of the exorcism. Lisa ran to Vanessa and put her arms around her, but the woman stood up and spoke firmly, her voice blending with Sam's. "…Te rogamus, audi nos!"

It was over, and the limp body lay flat in the now-silent room. Vanessa laid her cheek against her husband's. "Aaron," she whispered.

Sam looked at Castiel. "Cas, can you…" His voice broke off.

Castiel shook his head.

"What's going on?" A nurse came running into the room, and in a blur Lisa watched as people came sprinting with the crash cart. It was no use, she knew, and she went over and pulled Vanessa away.

Vanessa was calm, although her eyes were red. She and Lisa went down to get a cup of coffee after a while; Sam and Castiel had discreetly disappeared. "I knew this would happen eventually," she said quietly, staring into the depths of her paper cup. "It's part of the life."

"What will you do now?" Lisa asked.

"I'll take his ashes to the farm, and bury them by the oak tree like he always told me he wanted. And then…I'll just keep on going."

"You'll keep hunting?"

"Of course." Vanessa half-smiled. "It's a promise we made to each other, Lisa. I'm not going to stop until something gets me too."

Hunters, Lisa thought. They were always so resigned to their fate, accepting death as the inevitable culmination of their careers. No retirement, no pension plan, nothing but (if you were lucky) a knife between your ribs. Didn't any of them have a secret hope for something more?

"Sometimes people choose this life," Vanessa said, as if Lisa had spoken out loud. "But I don't know many like that. Mostly the life just sort of chose them."

Lisa's throat tightened. _The life chose them_. That statement seemed suddenly—and frighteningly—true. Once your life had been torn apart by the supernatural, there was no forgetting. No going back.


	17. Chapter 17: Final Chapter

Chapter 17

Lisa drove back to the farm that afternoon, alone. Vanessa would follow the next day, bringing her husband's ashes, but she had told Lisa to go on ahead. "You need to talk to Ben," she had said.

Dean had wanted to go with her, but Lisa had told him no. "I have to think," she said, and he understood. But still, as she parked the farm truck and walked towards the front door of the house, her thoughts refused to settle into some kind of decision.

She knew she had to make a decision: it was waiting for her, looming over her. Her mind flashed back to the talk she'd had with Sam in a moment when Dean wasn't around.

"Is he ok?" she'd said.

"I don't think so, Lisa. He's still got the Mark. It's my main concern right now." He looked at her apologetically. "I mean, I know you're having problems with Crowley, but trust me, next time I see him, I'll take care of it."

"No, I understand." She glanced at the hallway, expecting Dean to reappear at any moment. "Promise me you'll take care of him, Sam."

"You know I will."

Her heart was heavy now as she slogged through the melting snow and up the steps of the farmhouse.

"Mom!" Ben flew out the door and wrapped her in a hug.

"Ben, honey, it's so good to see you!" Lisa squeezed him as if she would never let him go.

"Where's Vanessa and Aaron?"

She met his eyes and spoke as gently as she could. "Ben, Aaron was seriously injured while he was hunting that demon. He didn't make it out of surgery."

"What?" Ben stood still, his face going white.

"He died, Ben. I'm so sorry."

Tears rolled down his face, and like a boy, he turned and ran away. Lisa watched him go, knowing she shouldn't follow.

She waited to tell him about Dean, waited until two days later, after Vanessa was home and they had all three put Aaron's ashes in the ground at the foot of the hundred-year-old oak tree. That afternoon she told him, sitting at the kitchen table.

"Ben, I saw Dean while I was in Lebanon."

He choked on the mug of hot cocoa she had made for him. "You saw him?" A wild mix of emotions flickered across his face. "Is he…is he…?"

"He's been through a lot," Lisa said. She watched every movement, every expression her son made. "He wants to see you, but I wanted to talk to you first and make sure that was ok."

Ben sat in silence for a few minutes. "I want to see him," he said finally.

"Then I'll call and let him know. But there's something else I want to talk about." Lisa closed her eyes, taking a long breath. She wasn't at all sure of what she was about to say, but she'd had a long talk with Vanessa last night, and she figured she might as well come right out and say it.

"Yeah?" Ben was waiting.

"Dean can't protect us against Crowley right now. He's been hurt, and he's not ready to fight demons again yet. He's in a safe place, and Sam is with him."

"Ok." Ben looked at her curiously. "So what are we going to do?"

Lisa spread out her hands. "We can't ever go back to what our life was like before. I've tried and tried, but I know it isn't going to happen. Do you understand that?"

Ben's eyes were still and steady over the rim of his mug as he lifted it and took a sip. "I've known that ever since I got my memories back," he said.

Lisa smiled ruefully. "Sometimes you're a little more clearsighted than I am," she said. "I've been trying to protect you, Ben. But now I'm going to lay it on the line. In a few years, you'll be able to decide what you want to do. Right now I'm going to do my best to keep you safe, and the safest place for us is right here. I talked to Vanessa. She wants us to stay."

For the first time Ben looked happy. "Really? We get to stay here?"

"Is that what you want?"

"Yes. I like it here."

"Vanessa's going to keep hunting. And Ben, I've decided…" Lisa swallowed hard. "I'm going to help her. Knowing everything I know, I can't sit here and let stuff just happen to people. That's not who I am."

"I want to hunt, too," Ben said. "I want to help you."

"I figured you'd say that." Lisa smiled at her son. "Right now, I can't say I'm ready for that. Can you make me a deal? I want you to finish high school. We'll get you enrolled in town. When you get through, I'll let you make the decision as to whether you want to be a hunter."

"I know that's what I want." His voice was clear and strong. "I won't change my mind."

"Well, let's just go with this plan for the time being," Lisa said.

"Ok." Ben pushed back his chair and stood up. "I need to go look after the animals."

Lisa watched his retreating back through the kitchen window. The mug of hot chocolate in her hands was cooling rapidly; she set it down and then rested her face on her arms, spread out on the table.

The next day Ben was in the barn when the Impala pulled through the gate. He heard the sound and came out, and Lisa opened the front door just in time to see her son flying across the front yard into Dean's arms.

Her eyes burned with tears as she watched, but she swallowed them and smiled, coming out onto the porch after a few minutes. "Come in, it's cold out here," she called, hugging her arms around her chest.

She hadn't seen Ben so happy in a long time. He didn't take his eyes off Dean all day. The men did the chores, and Lisa and Vanessa cooked dinner. Vanessa was gracious; her pain seemed to lessen when there was a house full of people that needed food. She even managed to laugh and make a couple of tiny jokes.

That night Lisa and Dean slept together in her room, their arms around each other. Lisa rested her head on Dean's chest. For a moment she wished her old wish: that they were a normal family. Then she shook her head. That wish was a waste of time. She should enjoy the moments that they had, and not the ones they would never have.

She woke up early and sat by the window, watching the sun come up. Dean climbed out of bed and walked up behind her, putting his hands on her shoulders.

That mark on his arm glowed in the dawn light. She reached up and put her hand over it gently, raising her face so she could see his eyes.

"You're going to have to go, Dean," she said. "You have things you have to work out."

"I know. I'm dangerous. I can't be around you and Ben." His hands were warm against her shoulders in the nightgown. "God, Lisa, I wish things were different."

"It is what it is." Lisa looked out the window again. "I will always love you, Dean. You know that. I'm not giving up hope for us."

"Really?" His grip tightened.

"Really." She stood up and faced him. "We'll see each other again. We'll be together again. I'm going to hold on to that."

They were silent for a few minutes. "I'm going to be hunting with Vanessa," Lisa said.

"I wish you wouldn't. I'm going to worry about you."

She shook her head. "It's my decision, Dean. It's made."

He pressed his lips to her hair suddenly. "I need to give you something, then." Going over to his jacket, he reached inside and pulled out an angel blade. "Take care of it," he said with his old grin. "You can't get these at the dollar store."

He put it in her hand and wrapped her fingers around the handle. Lisa felt the cool shock of it, the comfort as she adjusted to the grip. It was a powerful weapon; she felt the energy of it flowing into her.

Dean looked at her, and everything he felt for her was in his eyes. "I love you, Lisa."

"I know. Be safe, Dean. Say goodbye to Ben."

She did not follow him out of the room. She laid the blade on the dresser and stood by the window, watching. After a few minutes he came out. He did not look up. The Impala's engine started and he drove away, mud splashing up from the puddles on the road.

**A/N**: Thank you all so much for reading this story! I could go on and on, but I figured I'd better stop somewhere, haha. I might consider doing a sequel in the future, if anybody's interested. Your comments kept me going: I never expected such a kind and enthusiastic response to my first fanfic, and it was so encouraging. Thanks again!


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